


oh, we could stay in this moment (I'd never say goodbye)

by holtzbabe



Series: all the love I never gave [2]
Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: A collection of moments, F/F, of all the love that will never be forgotten
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-28 11:44:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13903323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holtzbabe/pseuds/holtzbabe
Summary: In a universe that’s billions of years old, their lives crossed not once, but over and over and over again—points of intersection scattered throughout time, over months and years, across cities and states, mapped in the stars like constellations.These are the moments they’ll remember in the end—together and apart, the good and the bad, all the moments betweennowandforever, betweenhelloandgoodbye, and all the love they felt in between.





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> No, I can't say goodbye to this universe just yet.
> 
> A collection of moments from the [all the love I never gave](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11000574/chapters/24504501) universe. Some based on prompts, some continuations of scenes previously mentioned, some scenes I didn't get to put in the main story—all exploring love in its various forms.

 

_1993_

“I don’t think the other girls like us,” Erin says as they pick their way over fallen branches and logs.

Jillian is walking in front of her. Erin can hear the sound of her popping her gum. “I’m not here to make friends, GG.”

Erin nearly slips on a patch of moss in her hurry to keep up with Jillian. “What are you here to do then?”

“Make cool science. Eat s’mores. Kick butt.” Jillian turns her head to wink. “See a ghost, with any luck.”

Erin doesn’t say anything, just keeps following her through the trees until Jillian skids to a stop in front of one.

Jillian shrugs off Erin’s backpack and tosses it to her. Erin holds it in both arms and watches Jillian clamber easily up the tree. She swings her leg over a branch near the top and peers down at Erin.

“Toss up the bag,” she says.

Erin bends at the knees and heaves the backpack straight up. Jillian has to lean a little out of the tree, one arm wrapped around the trunk like a monkey, but she snags the backpack out of midair.

“Your turn,” she says.

Erin shifts her weight from foot to foot. She’s bad at this. “Maybe I can stay down here.”

“Eriiiin,” Jillian singsongs. “Come on.”

Erin sighs and rolls her shoulders back, then stretches to grab a branch. “The things I do for you,” she mutters under her breath.

By the time she gets to where Jillian is, she’s managed to scrape her bare arm on the bark of the tree. She winces as she tries to hang on without bumping it.

Jillian unzips the backpack, balancing it on her lap, roots around until she locates Erin’s travel pack of wet wipes. She manages to tear open the package with her teeth and remove a wet wipe one-handed. She beckons for Erin to move close, so Erin shifts so she’s holding onto the tree with her other arm and turns to expose her arm.

Jillian carefully cleans out the cut with intense focus, tongue poking between her teeth. She throws the dirty wipe to the forest floor when she’s done.

“I’ll get it on our way out,” she promises without even looking up to see the disapproving look on Erin’s face.

Next, she reaches up to untie her blue bandana from around her hair. She pulls it down and pauses for a second, then slowly lets go of the tree so both her hands are free. She wraps the bandana once, twice around Erin’s arm over the wound and secures it. Erin bites her lip as she watches her.

Jillian finishes and grabs the tree again, looking up and meeting Erin’s gaze with a classic RJ grin. “There. Good as new. Now you look like a proper forest explorer.”

“Thanks,” Erin murmurs, swallowing a little lump in her throat that wasn’t there a minute ago. “You’re the best.”

Jillian does a little bow. “I know.”

 

_1990_

Jillian wraps the fleece blanket from the couch around her body and snuggles into it as she walks over to the patio door. It likes to stick, so she has to lean her whole body into it to open it.

Her mom is leaning against the railing and not wearing a coat, which Jillian finds funny because her mom always gets mad at her when she forgets to wear a coat in the winter. There’s a cloud in the air around her mom’s head, and Jillian thinks it’s from her breathing in the cold air, but then she smells it and realizes that it’s smoke. Her mom whips around, coughing, and waves one hand in the air while holding the other hand behind her back.

“What are you doing out here, baby?” she says. “It’s cold out—go back inside.”

Jillian pulls the blanket tighter around her body. “Are you smoking?”

“Uhh…” Her mom shifts and sighs. “Yes.”

“Do you always smoke?” Jillian asks. “Smoking kills people. They taught us that in school.”

“I know, honey, I know. I don’t do it always. Only when I’m…having a bad day. That doesn’t mean it’s right, but I’m not going to die. Okay?”

Jillian frowns. “Are you having a bad day?”

Her mom puts the cigarette in a little dish on the glass table in the corner of the patio. “I’ve had better days, but that doesn’t matter.” She crouches and rubs her hands up and down Jillian’s arms, which strikes Jillian as odd because she’s the one with the blanket and her mom has bare arms. “You’re not supposed to worry about me. That’s my job.”

Jillian thinks about that. She thinks about what she likes to do when she’s having a bad day.

“Can we make cookies?” she asks excitedly. She knows it’s late, but it seems like maybe her mom doesn’t realize it.

Her mom smiles. “Sure, baby. Let’s make cookies.”

She follows Jillian inside and to their tiny kitchen.

“Turn the oven on,” Jillian commands as she drags a chair from the table over to the counter. She climbs onto it and stands to reach the cupboard where they keep the flour and sugar.

“I’ve got that,” her mom says. “I don’t want you to fall.”

Jillian surrenders and grabs the chocolate chips instead, and the butter from the fridge. Her mom sets the flour and sugar on the counter. She pushes play on the blue boombox on the table and one of her mixtapes starts to play. One of Jillian’s favourites is playing. She doesn’t know what it’s called, but she knows all the words.

“ _Dance until the morning light_ ,” she sings as she shakes her butt to the song. “ _Forget about the worries on your mind.”_

Her mom laughs and joins her, singing along as well. She takes both of Jillian’s hands in hers and they shimmy back and forth together. Jillian hops up and down in time with the song. Her mom spins her and Jillian laughs.

“What’s the leck trick stars?” Jillian asks.

Her mom laughs. “Electric stars, honey.”

“Oh,” Jillian says. “What are those?”

“I don’t know, baby. I think he just means—you know, that feeling you get when the stars are shining brighter than you ever thought they could, and the night seems alive, and everything is perfect and you just feel like dancing?”

“Like tonight?” Jillian asks.

Her mom laughs again. “I guess so.”

“Alright, I get it.”

They keep dancing as they make the cookies. While they wait for them to bake, Jillian gets to lick the spoon. She catches a glimpse of the time on the microwave. It says it’s 12:34am. She doesn’t say anything. She has school tomorrow, and her bedtime was a long time ago. She doesn’t want to go to bed.

She never wants this night to end, not when her mom is finally smiling. Her mom’s smile looks like electric stars, and Jillian doesn’t want it to go out.

 

_1998_

It’s the 4th of July, and as recent high school graduates, they can think of nothing more celebratory than attending a fireworks show. The three of them plan to watch the show at Barnes Park together, but then Abby gets roped into a family barbeque which leaves Jillian and Erin to go to the fireworks alone.

They find a good spot and Erin spreads out the picnic blanket that she borrowed from home. Jillian plunks herself down before Erin has even finished smoothing it out. Erin sighs and joins her a second later, making sure to put a few inches between the two of them. She pulls out the second blanket, a quilt from her room, and lays it over her legs. The temperature is already starting to drop.

“How weak are you?” Jillian teases. “It’s July.”

“It’s going to get cold later, and then you’ll be sorry,” Erin retorts. “Just don’t come whining to me. I’m not sharing.”

“Well, then I’m not sharing my snacks,” Jillian says. She sticks out her tongue and pulls a wrapped Twinkie out of her patchwork bag.

“Keep them,” Erin mutters. She sits there for a minute, picking at a loose thread on the quilt. She sneaks a glance at Jillian, who’s licking her fingers and stashing the empty Twinkie wrapper back in her bag. She’s wearing an old band shirt that she got from a thrift store and cut the arms off of. Her bare arms are paler than the shirt. Her hair is impossibly messy. Her yellow glasses are pushed up onto the top of her head, and she’s also got a pair of sunglasses up there. She’s got half of an American flag temporary tattoo on her cheek, the half without the stars. She said she was patriotic, but not _that_ patriotic.

She’s sort of beautiful in a very Jillian way, Erin thinks. It’s strange—ever since prom, she’s been noticing it a bit more.

“Have I got something on my face?” Jillian says without looking over.

“No?”

“Then why are you staring at me?”

Erin blushes. “What? I’m not.”

“Riiight,” Jillian says. She cracks her knuckles. “So when do you think they’re gettin’ this puppy started?”

“When the sun sets,” Erin mumbles.

The sun sets. The temperature continues to cool. When the fireworks start, Jillian shifts closer so their hips and arms are touching. Erin’s heart beats a little faster. What if someone sees?

Then she realizes Jillian is shaking.

“I told you you’d get cold,” she says.

“I’m not cold,” Jillian says stubbornly.

“You have goosebumps on your legs,” Erin points out.

“No I don’t.”

Erin bites her lip. “Here, take my blanket.”

“I don’t need your blanket,” Jillian protests.

Erin moves the quilt anyway so it’s covering both of their legs. Jillian doesn’t put up any more complaints.

“Thanks,” she says in Erin’s ear, barely loud enough for her to hear.

Erin glances sideways at her. Jillian meets her eyes for a second and smiles. Bursts of colour from the fireworks glint off her two pairs of glasses. Erin looks back up at the sky.

A few minutes later, she finds Jillian’s hand under the blanket and hesitantly covers it with her own. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Jillian trying to hide a smile.

 

_2001_

Jillian rolls over onto her back, clutching her chip bag against her chest. “It’s too hot.”

“Hey,” Erin says, “you’re getting crumbs all over my bed.”

Jillian turns her head so she can see Erin, who’s sitting against the wall, down near the foot of the bed, bare legs pulled up, one arm wrapped loosely around her knees and the other hand holding a book.

“It’s _our_ bed,” Jillian reminds her. “Our Super Bed.”

“Well, this half is mine, and you’re getting chips in my sheets.”

“Erin, it’s like a billion degrees out and our AC is broken. You’re worried about a few chip crumbs at a time like this?”

Erin flips her page without looking up. “Yes. I don’t want little bits of chip to get stuck to my sweaty skin while I sleep tonight.”

Jillian rolls onto her side, reaching into the bag for a chip morsel of appropriate size and weight. She stretches her arm and very carefully presses it like a sticker against Erin’s shin.

It stays put.

Erin looks up. “Jillian. You better not have done what I think you just did.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Jillian says.

“I can’t believe you,” Erin says. She shuts her book and tosses it aside, craning over her legs to pluck the chip bit off. She flicks it at Jillian.

“Now who’s getting crumbs in the bed?” Jillian says.

“Jillian.”

“I’m sorryyyy. I’m just bored. It’s summer, Abby’s gone, you’re reading, it’s hot outside, I’m off work, and there’s nothing to do but eat.” To punctuate her point, she pulls a chip from the bag and crunches down on it. It crumbles and showers to the bed beneath her. She slowly looks down, wincing. “Okay, that time was an accident.”

Erin crawls closer and snatches the bag from her. “No chips in bed.”

“Hey! My chips!” Jillian tries to grab the bag back but Erin holds it out of reach. She scrambles to get upright but Erin places a hand on the centre of her chest and pushes her back down. Jillian raises an eyebrow.

Erin cocks her head. “Do you promise to never eat chips in bed again?”

“I…I can’t make that promise, Erin, you know that.”

Erin shrugs coyly. “Well, then, you’re never getting up.”

“I’m stronger than you, Erin,” Jillian says, and pushes herself up on her elbows to prove her point.

Erin, before Jillian can move any further, swings a leg over her, straddling her and effectively trapping her.

Jillian is a little breathless suddenly. “I could be persuaded to give up the chips.”

“Good.”

“On one condition.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“You give me something better to do.”

Erin sets the bag of chips behind her, out of reach, and smirks down at her. “You could read a book.”

Jillian smirks back. “I hate books. You know that.”

“Fine, then. You could build something.”

“It’s too hot for that.”

“You have a lot of excuses.”

Jillian licks her lips. “It’s because I’ve got something in mind, actually.”

Erin’s already clued in, Jillian can tell. She continues to play dumb anyway. “What might that be?”

Jillian tries to shrug. “Oh, just something.”

Erin leans down. “Just something?”

Jillian’s mouth is dry. “Yep. It might be too hot, but—”

She breaks off with a gasp, because Erin’s hand has found its way between her legs and is cupping Jillian over her shorts. She stripped down to boxers and a sports bra ages ago, and now she’s grateful.

“Too hot?” Erin says dryly.

“Let’s find out,” Jillian squeaks, trying and failing to keep up the confident banter. Erin has the upper hand. Literally.

Erin hums and moves her hand to trace the inside of Jillian’s thigh. Jillian squirms. Erin leans closer still, hovering an inch away from Jillian’s face. She can feel sweat running down the back of her neck, and she’s breathing heavily.

This is the most Erin has ever initiated, even though Jillian still sort of initiated it.

Erin twists to ghost her lips over Jillian’s ear, just barely grazing it. Despite the heat, Jillian shivers.

“Is this what you had in mind?” Erin whispers.

“Stop teasing me,” Jillian chokes out. “That’s not fair.”

“You said you were bored,” Erin says smugly, pulling back.

Jillian grabs Erin’s arm. “Please?”

Erin responds by pressing her mouth to Jillian’s. Her free hand comes up to tangle in Jillian’s hair, her not-so-free hand sweeping under her boxers, painfully slow. Jillian keens into the touch.

Erin pulls back from the kiss. “Patience,” she says cheekily.

“I hate you,” Jillian says. “Seriously. I hate you. I’m moving out.”

Erin’s fingers twitch, and Jillian shuts her eyes and bites her lip.

“Never mind,” she groans. “I still hate you, though.”

Erin laughs.

“I’m going to get you back for this,” Jillian threatens.

“Promise?”

Jillian opens her eyes and grins.

“I’m going to wipe that smile off your face,” Erin says, very matter-of-fact.

“Promi—” Jillian breaks off with a whine. Her legs twitch and kick and she hears the unmistakable sound of a chip bag crinkling. She swears under her breath—at Erin, not the chip bag—and shuts her eyes again.

Ironically, they both end up naked, flushed with sweat, with chip crumbs stuck places chip crumbs should never be.

(Not that Erin seems to mind).

 

_2018_

Jillian has been scrawling on a legal pad for two straight minutes. Erin watches her and bites her lip.

She comes up for air eventually and looks over her work. She pushes the pad towards Erin for approval.

Erin surveys the list. It’s longer than she expected, and now she feels even more self-conscious. She knows that wasn’t Jillian’s intention, but it still stings as a reminder of the situation.

“What did you come up with?” Jillian says softly.

Erin pushes her own blank legal pad over with a sigh.

“Do…you really not have anyone?” Jillian says in the smallest voice possible.

Erin shrugs in what she hopes is a blasé way. “My parents are dead and I wouldn’t have included them even if they were alive, and I have three friends besides you who are already invited. Who else would I invite to my wedding? I don’t have anyone, Jillian.” She sinks down into her chair in humiliation.

Jillian lays a hand on her arm. “It’s okay, Erin. My friends are your friends. It’s not like you won’t know anyone there. Do you really not have anyone else, though? What about your aunt? You’re still on good terms with her, right?”

Erin sits up a little straighter. “Yeah, I could invite her. She doesn’t know about the whole bisexual thing, but I think she’d be okay with it.”

Jillian smiles encouragingly. “Great!” She writes down _Erin’s aunt_ on the guest list. “Who else? Do you have any colleagues from Columbia who you’d want to invite?”

Erin shakes her head quickly. “No. Definitely not.”

“It’s okay. Just thought I’d ask.” Jillian pats her arm. “We’re gonna find you some people, Erin, don’t you worry. And even if we don’t, I’m gonna make sure that you’re still surrounded by people who love you at your wedding. I promise.”

Erin can only stare at her for a second, then kisses her cheek and blinks back tears at the gesture.

“Have I mentioned today that I love you and don’t deserve you?” she says.

Jillian glances at her with a smirk. “No, but I know it anyway.”

Erin finds her hand and squeezes it. “Okay, let’s write out some invitations.”

 

_1996_

Jillian is standing on her bed and taping a magazine cover to her wall when there’s a knock on her door. She looks over her shoulder to see her mom standing there with Luke on her hip. She sets him down and he toddles over to the bed.

“Jee-ee,” he says, which is as close as he can get to her name.

“Hello, Mr. Skywalker,” she greets him seriously.

Her mom smiles and leans against the door frame. She looks tired. She always looks tired.

“What’s that you’re putting up?”

“Just another picture of our lord and saviour Gillian Anderson.” Jillian kisses her fingers and touches them to the photo.

“You really love her, huh?” There’s something strange in her mom’s voice. Amusement, almost, but not in a mean way.

“Yeah,” Jillian sighs, “she’s the best.”

She gets down off the bed and picks Luke up, swinging him around and making lightsaber sounds. He shrieks in glee. It’s his favourite thing.

“Can I come in?” her mom asks.

“Course,” Jillian says. She plunks Luke back down on the floor.

Her mom comes and perches on the edge of the bed. She stares at the wall above the bed for a while, taking in the collection of posters.

“I remember when I was your age,” she says. “My father didn’t let me put anything up on my walls, but I kept a bunch of posters rolled up under my bed. I’d take them out sometimes and admire them. I even put one up one time in an act of defiance.”

Jillian sits in the chair at her desk and leans forward on her knees. “Did he find out?”

“Yeah, and I lost all of them. Burnt to ashes in the firepit out back that night, and I got a nasty bruise to show for it as well. Could’ve been worse. I remember being so angry that he was limiting my self-expression.”

Jillian doesn’t hear about her grandparents very frequently. Rarely, actually. She’s never met them, understandably so. She doesn’t even know if they’re still alive.

“What did your mom say?” she asks, always curious.

Her mom snorts. “What she always said. That I needed to grow up. The real irony was that then she went out and got shitfaced and gambled away two weeks’ pay that night, proving that she was absolutely the mature one.”

Jillian gets up and sits beside her on the bed. She drops her head to rest against her shoulder. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t feel like she has to.

“I just hope…I hope I’ve done enough as a mom that you feel like you can be anyone you want to be. Whoever you are, however you want to express yourself, whatever you want to put on your walls or wear or watch or listen to, whatever choices you make, whatever things are beyond your control—I’ll always love you the same. You’re my kid, and if there’s one thing that I hope I’ve taught you, it’s that I never want you to be scared to be who you are. Okay?”

Jillian swallows. She isn’t quite sure where this is coming from, but she can tell it’s important to her.

“I know, Mom,” she says. “Thank you.”

Her mom wraps an arm around her and squeezes tightly. “I love you, baby. Now and forever.”

“I love you, too, Mom. Now and forever.”

 


	2. ii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you thought these were all gonna be happy? #sorrynotsorry

_2000_

Jillian wakes up feeling like someone has her in a headlock. She can hardly blink. She squints into the semi-dark and realizes she’s in Abby’s room. Everything is spinning.

“Morning, sunshine,” Abby says, far too loudly.

“Abby,” Jillian rasps, “how drunk was I?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” Abby says.

“I—” Jillian curls further into a ball, feeling nauseated. “I can’t remember anything.” Fantastic. The beginning of a new millennium, a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence, and she can’t remember any of it.

Abby snorts.

Jillian shuts her eyes to make the spinning stop. “Why are you so incapable of getting hangovers? It’s infuriating.”

“Some of us just know how to handle our liquor better than others,” Abby says.

Jillian groans. A second later, she opens one eye. “Where’s Erin?”

“In your room, I imagine.”

“Right. Follow-up question: why am I _not?”_

“Well, Erin was pretty pissed. I think she kicked you out.”

Jillian sits up and immediately regrets it. She winces and pinches the bridge of her nose for a moment, then regroups and looks at Abby. “Sorry, what? Erin was mad? At me?”

Abby chuckles. “Yeah, I was just as surprised.”

“What did I do?”

“Beats me. She disappeared into your room and missed the countdown at midnight, so it must’ve been pretty bad.”

Jillian swears. She pushes herself up, stumbling a little, and exits Abby’s room. She might still be a little drunk. She has to stop to throw up in the bathroom on her way to her and Erin’s room.

When she finally gets there, she opens the door and slips inside quietly, in case Erin is still asleep.

She’s not.

She’s sitting on the (fully made) Super Bed with her arms crossed, and she looks furious.

“Uhh…good morning,” Jillian says. “Happy New Year?”

“Shut the door,” Erin hisses.

Jillian closes the door and doesn’t move closer for fear that Erin will punch her or something. “What happened to make you mad at me? Because I can’t remember a thing about last night.”

“Well, some of us don’t have that luxury,” Erin snaps.

Jillian sighs. “Can you please just tell me what I did wrong?”

“No. It’s not my fault that you drank too much.”

“Erin.”

“Fine, you really want to know?”

“Yes. That’s why I asked you.”

“Don’t give me attitude, Jillian, I’m not in the mood.”

“What did I do?”

“Where do I start, Jillian?” Erin says angrily, voice hushed. “Maybe the fact you were blatantly flirting with me in front of Abby?”

Jillian blinks. _That_ she wasn’t expecting. “I was? What did I say?”

Erin’s chest reddens. “I’m not going to tell you. But Abby was sitting _right there_ , and sure, she was drunk, too, but _still_. She could’ve _realized_ that…”

“That what?” Jillian asks. She wants to see if Erin will admit that there’s something going on between them.

“That we’re hiding something,” Erin finishes.

Jillian makes a popping noise with her mouth. “Right. Is that all?”

“What do you mean, ‘is that all?’ It was a big deal, Jillian!”

“Yes, okay, and I’m sorry. I just meant is there anything else that I did that made you mad, or was it just the flirting?”

Erin doesn’t say anything for a few moments. “That’s it,” she says stiffly, finally. “Other than the fact that I missed the new millennium because I had to leave. You wouldn’t shut up.”

Jillian looks at the floor. “I’m really sorry, Erin. If it helps, I can’t remember anything, so it’s kind of like I missed it, too.”

“Serves you right,” Erin says. She still seems upset.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else?” Jillian asks. She hedges her bets and comes to sit on the edge of the Super Bed, slightly less fearful that Erin will punch her.

She can see Erin swallow. She brushes her hair back and doesn’t meet Jillian’s eyes. “You didn’t follow me,” she mumbles.

Jillian leans in closer. “What?”

“You didn’t follow me,” Erin says louder. “I was upset, and I left our party to come hide in here, and you didn’t even follow me to see if I was okay. I stayed in here the rest of the night and you didn’t seem to care.”

Jillian winces. “Shit, Erin. I’m really sorry. I think I was too drunk to notice anything was wrong, or I woulda. That’s no excuse, but that’s why. I feel awful.”

“Good,” Erin says. “You should.”

Jillian carefully reaches to take Erin’s hand, well aware that it might make everything worse. “I promise, I’ll never say anything in front of Abby again. And I’ll never drink that much again. I swear. I hate this.”

“What, being hungover?”

“No, you being mad at me. I hate it. I’d rather take a billion hangovers than have you be mad at me.”

Erin smiles softly, finally, but she still seems upset.

Jillian decides to really throw caution to the wind. “You know, both of us got gypped out of a New Year’s kiss.”

Erin raises an eyebrow. “Where are you going with this?”

“You know where,” Jillian says.

Erin doesn’t say anything. Jillian shifts closer. Leans in. Pauses. Gives Erin time to pull away or say no.

Erin closes the gap between their lips, just a quick peck, but it fills Jillian’s stomach with butterflies. Actually, that could be the hangover. She’s not sure.

When Erin moves back, she leaves her eyes closed for a second, then opens them. She seems to study Jillian for a moment.

“I forgive you,” she whispers.

Jillian perks up. “Really?”

“Yes,” Erin says. “Happy New Year, Jillian.”

Jillian grins. “Happy New Year, Erin.”

 

_1991_

Erin stares up at her locker with a dead stare. The word _CRAZY_ is written diagonal across it in Sharpie. She already tried scrubbing it off. It won’t budge.

She slams the door shut and picks up her model of a plant cell from where she left it on the floor. She’s been working for a week on it. She walks shakily down the hall.

It’s been a month-and-a-half since she started middle school without Jillian. A month-and-a-half of near-constant torture.

She doesn’t understand why everyone hates her so much. She hasn’t done anything to deserve this.

Dustin McNeil has appeared in front of her, Matt Wong and Chester Landon on either side of him. “Hey, Ghost Girl, whaddya got there?”

“Leave me alone,” she says quietly. She’s lost all the toughness she used to have. Jillian took it all with her.

“Lemme see.” Dustin yanks the project from her hands.

“Please give it back,” she pleads. Her eyes prickle.

“You know, I think I need to go take a piss,” Dustin says with an evil smile.

Erin swallows thickly. She doesn’t even know what to say at this point.

The three boys take off at a run down the hallway with her project. She follows, because what else can she do?

They make it inside the boy’s bathroom before she gets there. She pounds on the door. “Give it back,” she shouts. There’s laughter within.

Dustin opens the door a minute later, wiping his hands on his pants. “Someone better call the janitor,” he says with a smirk. “There’s a clogged toilet in there.”

“ _No_ ,” Erin cries. She pushes past him and into the boy’s bathroom, ignoring the shouts of several boys inside as she skids to a stop in front of one of the stalls. Water is overflowing from the toilet, her project twisted and crammed inside.

“Get the hell outta here!” someone says.

Erin can’t stop angry tears from gathering in her eyes. She turns and runs.

She runs until she gets outside, to her Spot in the corner of the field. She hates it there because it reminds her of Jillian, but she spends every recess and lunch there anyway.

She stays there, crying, for the duration of her science class. Her _favourite_ class.

When she gets home later, her parents have received a phone call about her skipping class. Her father slaps her cheek and grips her arm hard enough to leave bruises. She doesn’t get dinner.

She cries in her room and decides right then and there that she needs to toughen up again if she’s ever going to survive until college. She’s got nobody to rely on but herself.

She’s got to accept that things aren’t going to get any better until then. This is her life, now.

This is the life that Jillian left her to deal with alone.

 

_1997_

“You don’t have to come.”

Jillian sits on the edge of the hospital bed and stares at nothing. “I have to go,” she says robotically.

Mark stares at the floor. “Jillian, if it’s going to be too hard—”

“I’m going,” she says sharply.

It’s later, when Mark pushes a borrowed wheelchair over uneven grass, that Jillian wonders if she made the right choice.

There’s far too much sun for a funeral. Her wrist aches. Her shoulder aches. Her ribs ache. Her very being aches.

She shouldn’t be here.

She shouldn’t be breathing in the July air, watching dirt cover a casket, watching Mark hold his suit sleeve to his eyes, watching Luke scream and scream and scream for a mother who’s never going to come home again.

She closes her eyes.

She’s not here. She’s not here. She’s not here.

She’s dancing in the kitchen with her mom. She’s swinging on a swing set, kicking and pulling higher and higher. She’s feeding her brother mashed carrots. She’s paddling a kayak in the middle of a lake. She’s watching the X-Files. She’s burning a marshmallow. She’s doing cartwheels across a field. She’s holding Erin’s hand and running through a forest. She’s feeling the impact—fire and metal, crunching and screaming—over, and over, and over, and over, and over.

She’s not here.

 

_2005_

Erin has been going back and forth for months about this decision.

She’s got five acceptance letters in front of her. Five acceptance letters from five amazing schools.

One school that Jillian is at.

MIT is her top choice. It was before she even knew that Jillian was there. It’s an incredible school with unreal opportunities for her.

In her head, she runs through what the first day might be like. She runs through it a thousand times, all with different outcomes.

She sees Jillian, and Jillian realizes that it’s no use being mad at Erin anymore. They have an emotional reunion and become best friends again.

She sees Jillian, and Jillian screams at her in front of everyone, embarrassing her and causing her fellow grad students and every single faculty member to hate her. MIT realizes accepting her was a mistake. She’s known as the woman who believes in ghosts all over again. Everything comes crashing down. Jillian hates her until the end of time.

She sees Jillian, and she realizes that she has to leave again.

She sees Jillian, and she regrets going to MIT.

She sees Jillian, and she regrets ever leaving.

She sees Jillian, and Jillian doesn’t remember her.

She sees Jillian. She sees Jillian. She sees Jillian.

She accepts MIT’s offer of admission.

 

_1998_

They’re sitting in their first year German class and conjugating the verb _lieben_ , to love. Jillian has long since memorized the conjugation rules, so she’s sitting back in her chair and barely listening. Beside her, Erin is taking frantic notes.

Jillian glances around the room and is startled to discover that the girl who always sits by the window is staring at her. She’s East Asian and butch, with short cropped hair, noticeable muscles, a tattoo on her forearm, and an oversized green and blue flannel shirt. Jillian has noticed her before—hard not to with a class this small—but she’s never noticed her _staring_.

The girl smirks and discretely signs a few words, clearly meant for Jillian. She suddenly wishes she was learning ASL, not German. What a missed opportunity. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, then shakes her head and shrugs, mouthing _sorry_.

“What are you looking at?” Erin whispers.

Jillian jerks to attention and quickly looks back at the front. “Nothing.” She sneaks a quick glance back at the girl, who’s watching the two of them with an amused expression.

Erin follows her gaze. “What’s she staring at?”

“I don’t know.”

Erin drops it, thankfully.

At the end of class, Jillian is packing up her bag when there’s a presence in front of her desk. She looks up to see the girl standing there.

“Du verdienst etwas besseres, Frau Holtzmann,” she says. Then she smirks again. “Schönes wochenende,” she calls as she walks away.

“What did she just say?” Erin says. “Have we learned that?” She looks down at her notes like they might help her.

_You deserve better_.

“I don’t know,” Jillian lies.

“Have you ever spoken to her before?” Erin asks as they exit the classroom.

“No,” Jillian says. “I don’t even know her name.”

Erin huffs. “What’s her deal? God.”

Jillian shrugs as they walk. “I don’t mind.”

Erin looks sideways at her. “Wait. You’re not interested, are you?”

“Interested in what?”

“ _Her_ ,” Erin says judgementally.

Jillian frowns. “No?”

“Good.”

If Jillian didn’t know any better, she’d say Erin sounds relieved.

Jillian never talks to the girl again.

 

_2003_

Erin is packing up her bag to leave the undergrad physics class that she’s TAing for when a student approaches her.

“Hey, Erin,” he says with a shy smile.

She forces her best approximation of a smile onto her face. “Hi, Martin. What can I help you with?”

He scruffs his hand in his hair. “Um. I just wanted—I was wondering if—uh, if maybe…”

Erin is losing patience. She needs to get out of here. It’s been four months since she left, but nothing’s changed. There are only so many hours she can go before the massive crater in her chest opens up. She can only hold it together for the length of class. Anything past that, and she starts to fall apart.

“I’m in a hurry,” she says, voice strained.

“Sorry. I was just gonna see if maybe…if maybe you’d want to grab coffee sometime?” He holds both hands up. “After the course is over. Not now. I know while you’re my TA you can’t—”

“No.”

He falters. “Sorry?”

“No.” She clears her throat and holds her briefcase closer to her body. “Um. No. I—no.”

Martin fiddles with the arm of his glasses. “Is it because I’m a student? You know, I’m actually 23. I think I’m older than y—”

“I can’t, Martin,” Erin says hurriedly. “I have to go.”

She pushes past him, cheeks burning. She feels like she’s going to throw up. She always feels like she’s going to throw up. Her heart pounds.

When she gets back to her apartment, she actually does heave over the bathroom sink, but luckily nothing comes up. Her eyes flood with tears. She splashes cool water on her face and stares at her reflection in the mirror above the sink. What could he possibly see in her? All she sees is a woman who turned her back on her best friends. A woman who broke her best friend’s heart. A woman who let her best friends believe she was dead because she was too much of a coward to face them.

She doesn’t deserve anyone. She did this. This is who she is.

She sits on the bathroom floor and unintentionally digs her fingernails into her thighs to keep from crying. Her chest is so tight that she has to gasp for air. She bows her head over her knees and chokes out an apology over and over and over even though she knows nobody is listening.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _I’m sorry, Jillian_.”

 

 


	3. iii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you missed it, I posted the [last chapter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11000574/chapters/32139381) of _all the love I never gave_ and if you haven't read it yet, you'll want to read it before this! Otherwise you'll run into some major spoilers. Alright, proceed! :) 

_2020_

“I would rather die than get a minivan, Erin.”

“Could you try not to be a drama queen for _one_ minute of your life?” Erin peers in the window of a nearby model on the car lot.

Jillian maintains a safe distance from the abomination with Dana’s stroller. “I’m not exaggerating. I’d honestly rather die.”

“Jillian.”

“We don’t need a minivan,” Jillian whines. “Give me one good reason that we need a minivan.”

Erin turns around and strides towards her, counting on her fingers. “We only have one car and it barely fits the stroller in the trunk. The kids will be living with us full-time soon and the five of us don’t fit in the car. We have a family and we have to accept that families have minivans.”

“Objection to all of that,” Jillian says. “We are _not_ minivan people and we are under no obligation to be minivan people.”

Erin rolls her eyes. “Right. Alright. What’s your alternative, then? The five of us ride on your motorcycle?”

“No! How crazy do you think I am?” Jillian laughs. “No, only you and I would ride on the motorcycle. Then we’d slap one kid in a sidecar on either side, and Laura could hold Dana. Problem solved.”

“I hope for your sake that you’re kidding,” Erin says, “otherwise I’ll have no choice but to hit you upside the head. You’re unbelievable. Can’t you take this seriously?”

“I am taking this seriously! I’d _seriously_ rather die than surrender to suburban parenthood and get a minivan! Can’t we, like, buy a school bus or something?”

“A school bus,” Erin deadpans.

“Yeah. Plenty of space. Way cooler.”

“No seatbelts,” Erin points out.

“Millions of parents have no problem with their children riding the school bus without a seatbelt,” Jillian counters.

Erin’s sigh could probably be heard from Neptune.

“I’m not fighting you on this anymore,” she says. “What can I do to get you on board with getting a minivan? Work with me here, please.”

Jillian thinks for a moment.

“Racing stripes.”

“Racing stripes,” Erin repeats. “No.”

“Alright,” Jillian says, and unlocks the stroller brake. “Don’t say I wasn’t reasonable.” She wheels the stroller around and pushes past Erin. “I’m gonna go look into private jets.”

“I hate you,” Erin calls after her.

Jillian grins down at Dana. “Don’t worry, she’s just joking. She loves me.” Then, louder, over her shoulder: “So what colour minivan are we talkin’? It’s gotta be red or I’ll walk.”

 

_2024_

“What’s it like being gay?”

The question surprises Erin, to say the least. She looks in the rear-view mirror and meets Will’s eyes for a second. She doesn’t know how she’s supposed to answer that.

Their commute time together, only the two of them since Laura graduated, has yielded some of Erin’s hardest parenting challenges. Will is an extremely inquisitive—and intelligent—kid. He expects and deserves honest answers.

She clears her throat and puts her turn signal on. “Well, I’m not gay. I’m bisexual.”

“You like boys and girls.”

“Exactly.” Erin looks in the mirror again. Will is looking out the window.

“Sam is bisexual,” Will says.

“Oh. Yes, I think she is. Good memory.”

“What’s it like?”

Erin still isn’t sure how to answer the question.

“It’s…good,” she says.

“How do you know you are bisexual?”

Erin blinks. “Um. I just…I just sorta know, hon.”

“But how do you know?”

She thinks about it. “Well, I guess…I always knew that I liked boys. I tried to pretend that I didn’t like girls, too, but eventually I couldn’t fight the feelings I had for MJ.”

Mama Jillian. Jillian loves the nickname—but she’s always loved nicknames, so it’s no surprise.

“What feelings?”

Erin smiles even though he won’t be able to see it. “I loved her.”

“Oh.”

They drive in silence except for the low hum of the radio.

“Why did you try to pretend you didn’t love MJ? Did you not want to be bisexual?”

These are far too difficult questions to be answering to a ten-year-old while stuck in traffic at 8:00am. Or to anyone at any time, actually.

“It’s really complicated,” Erin says, knowing full well that Will hates that answer. She chews her lip. “No, it’s not that complicated, actually. You’re right, I didn’t want to be bisexual.”

“Why not?”

“I thought that it was wrong,” Erin says. “It’s not wrong—it’s completely normal and okay. But that’s what I thought. I don’t think that anymore.”

Silence. Erin thinks maybe she’s past the worst of the questioning.

“Is MJ gay or bisexual?”

That’s an easy one, at least. “She’s gay.”

“How does she know?”

“She’s known for a long time,” Erin says. “Since she was a kid. I’m not sure how she knew.” That’s a bit of a lie. She’s always known that she was part of the discovery. She’s not sure how big of a role she played, but she knows it was there.

“Oh. Okay.”

They finally pull up to the Edison K-8 School.

“Have a good day at school,” Erin says brightly.

“Have a good day at work,” Will answers. He hops out of the van with his backpack and closes the door behind him.

Erin thinks about the conversation for the rest of her commute out to Harvard.

She’s on the bridge when it hits her.

She nearly smacks her head on the steering wheel for being so thick. If Jillian were here, she’d be laughing hysterically at her for not cluing in sooner.

She spends most of her workday distracted thinking about what to say to him—if anything—when she picks him up from school later. She almost phones Jillian, but then she decides she doesn’t want to bother her at the lab for something like this. She can figure it out.

By the time 3:10pm rolls around, she’s sitting in the van and nervously wringing her hands while she waits for him.

“Hi,” she says when he climbs into the back seat some time later. “How was school?” Her voice is a few octaves higher than usual.

He doesn’t seem to notice. “It was okay. We learned about polygons.”

“Coolio,” she says in as casual of a voice as she can muster. “I love a good polygon.” She inhales as she starts driving. “Anything else happen today?”

“No,” Will says.

Erin thinks that might be the end of that.

They’re about halfway home when Will pipes up again.

“Is it okay if I am gay?”

Erin swallows. There it is. “Yes,” she says immediately. “Of course that’s okay, honey.” She searches for what else to say.

Of all of the literal _dozens_ of queer people that Will has in his life, she’s the least qualified to be having this conversation with him. Why couldn’t it have been Jillian? Or Connie? Or Rebecca? Or any of the Dykes? Or Amber? Literally anybody but her.

No, screw that. She’s got this.

She pulls over to the side of the road and puts her hazards on. Once she’s safely parked, she twists in her seat so she can see him.

“Why did we stop driving?” he asks.

“Because this is important.” She takes a deep breath. “Honey, it’s completely okay if you like boys or girls or both or neither. It would also be completely okay if _you_ don’t feel like you’re a boy. You can be so many different things, and it’s _all_ okay—and it’s okay if you don’t know yet. You can be absolutely anything and we’re going to love you just the same. Okay?”

“Okay,” he says. “Some kids called me gay.”

“What kids?” she says instantly. “I’ll call the principal tomorrow.” She shakes her head. “Never mind, we can talk about that later. What did they say to you?”

He shrugs. “They just said I was gay for liking superheroes.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous,” Erin says. “Anyone can like superheroes. Just because you like superheroes, that doesn’t mean that you’re gay. But if you _are_ gay and you like superheroes, well, that’s nothing bad.” She’s trying so hard to cover all her bases.

“Okay,” Will says, and leans back in his seat, clearly satisfied.

Erin isn’t sure where that leaves them, but she feels like she handled the situation better than she thought she would. She pauses with her hand on the gearshift.

“Are you ready to go home?”

“Yeah,” Will says with a smile. “I’m ready.”

 

_2038_

They pull into the parking lot and Jillian is already unbuckling her seatbelt with glee.

“Please don’t embarrass me,” Dana says from the backseat.

Jillian twists all the way around in her seat. “ _Dana_. I would _never_.”

“You’re starting college,” Erin says. “At our alma mater, no less! It’s a big deal.”

“You didn’t make this big of a deal when Laura started,” Dana says.

“You were two,” Erin says pointedly. “How would you know?”

Dana crosses her arms. “She told me.”

“She probably just didn’t want you to worry,” Jillian says. “We totally made a huge deal out of it.”

“She wasn’t moving into res, so there wasn’t as much of a production involved, but that doesn’t mean we didn’t make a big deal out of it,” Erin points out. “Can you believe you’re going to be living in the same dorms that we lived in?”

“You’ve mentioned it a thousand times, so yeah, I can believe it.” Dana says this with a smile.

“Are you excited? You’ve gotta be excited,” Jillian says.

“Oh my God. Yes, Mom, I’m excited. Also scared. But mostly excited.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Erin says. “You’re going to have a great time.”

“If I could make it through college, so can you,” Jillian says with a grin. “Now, let’s get you moved in, shall we?”

Dana sighs, but she’s still smiling. “Let’s do it.”

 

_2019_

Erin’s phone is ringing.

Her cell phone, which means that it’s likely Jillian. She phones a lot now that she’s trapped back at their place and can’t come to the firehouse. They can’t risk harming the maybe-embryo.

She glances at her phone, and sure enough, it’s Jillian. She glances across the room at Abby and Patty and swipes to answer the call.

“I’m late,” Jillian says by way of greeting.

Erin blinks. “For what?” She angles away from Abby and Patty and lowers her voice. “Shoot, did we have an appointment today?” She shakes her head, answering her own question. “No, we didn’t. Were we supposed to meet for lunch? I’m still at work.”

“ _Erin_ ,” Jillian says. “I’m _late_.”

“I heard you,” Erin says. “I guess I’m going to be late, too. Where are we meeting?”

“For fuck’s sake, Erin,” Jillian says. “ _LATE._ ”

“Ouch. It’s okay, I don’t need an eardrum.”

“I can’t believe this. Call me when you figure it out.”

And then Jillian hangs up, leaving Erin spluttering after her.

It takes her a whole eight minutes.

“LATE!” she shouts suddenly.

Abby, Patty, and even Kevin turn to look at her.

“I—uh—I’m late! I was supposed to meet Jillian for lunch—I have to—bye!” Erin keeps stammering nonsensical things as she grabs her jacket and purse.

“Everything okay, squirrely?” Abby calls after her.

“Everything’s a-okay!” Erin shouts. “I’m just late!”

She’s gone before anyone can say anything else. She excitedly jogs in the direction of the nearest subway station, but then doubles back when she passes a drugstore.

She supposes she probably looks a little manic, so it’s no surprise when the clerk flags her down.

“Anything I can help you find, Miss?”

“Yeah,” she says, unable to keep from smiling, “where are the pregnancy tests?”

 

_2051_

“How could you forget your son’s birthday?” Erin teases, bumping Jillian’s shoulder as she squeezes past her in their pocket-sized kitchen.

“I didn’t forget,” Jillian whines. She swipes a sausage link off one of the plates that Erin is carrying. “I’m almost seventy; cut me some slack.”

“I _am_ seventy, my dear, and I didn’t forget. Now, stop cheating and come sit like a civilized person.” Erin sets the plates on the kitchen table and pulls out one of the cheerful yellow chairs. She takes a seat and unfolds the newspaper with one hand, salting her eggs with her other.

Jillian scrapes back her own chair and joins Erin at the table with considerably less grace. She tears a piece of toast in half with her teeth. “How did we get so old?” she mumbles through her full mouth as she picks up another sausage with her fingers.

“Growing old is mandatory, but growing up is optional,” Erin quotes. “Something I think you’ve taken a little too much to heart. There’s a such thing as a fork, Jillian.”

“Fork off,” Jillian says with a wink.

Erin sighs. “Sometimes it feels like nothing has changed since we were children.”

Jillian spits a flax seed onto her plate—damn Erin and her healthy bread. “Can’t imagine why.”

Erin tries to hide her smile behind her newspaper but fails. “Once you’re done being disgusting, you’d better give Will a call before he realizes you forgot his birthday.”

“ _I didn’t forget!_ ”

 

_2022_

Jillian returns home from work to find Laura doing schoolwork at the kitchen table.

“Hey,” Jillian greets her as she tosses her keys on the counter. “Erin and Will home yet?”

“Nope,” Laura says. “Rebecca’s still here.”

“How was class today?”

Laura shrugs and runs a hand through her hair. “My psyc prof is such a dick. I can barely sit through his lectures anymore. We have a midterm on Thursday and I’m totally screwed.”

“You’ll be fine,” Jillian says. “And if you’re not, eh, who cares.”

Laura laughs. “I think that’s the general mood in the class right now.”

Jillian grins. “Good. Where are Becca and Dana at?”

“Basement, I think,” Laura says.

“Righty-o.” Jillian salutes and leaves her to study in peace.

As she heads down the stairs to the basement, she can hear Rebecca’s voice, reading by the sounds of it. She doesn’t do much else with Dana. Not that Dana minds.

Sure enough, when Jillian gets down there, Rebecca is sitting on the couch with Dana sitting on her lap, holding a book open while Rebecca reads from it.

Jillian stops on the last step and leans against the wall. “Whatcha reading today?”

Rebecca glances up only for a moment. “ _Don Quixote_.”

“I hear that’s what all the two-year-olds are reading,” Jillian says.

Dana can’t even get her tiny little hands all the way around the book, but she looks completely enraptured. In fact, upon the interruption, she looks up in annoyance.

“More book,” she commands.

Rebecca gives Jillian a look over the rims of her glasses and returns to reading.

Jillian just chuckles and comes to take a seat on the floor in front of the couch. She half-listens to the story while she stacks Duplo blocks into a tower.

“How was the lab today?” Rebecca asks.

Jillian doesn’t miss the fact that it’s essentially the same question she asked Laura upon her arrival home. She smiles to herself. And Rebecca likes to pretend that she’s not a mom.

She adds another block to the tower. “Fine. One of the grad students, Billy, is a real piece of work. Just full of bad attitude. I don’t know how you did this for so many years.”

“I did have some trying students,” Rebecca says, and gives her another very deliberate look.

Jillian pretends not to see it, but she’s still smiling. She adds another block.

“You’re home earlier than I would have expected,” Rebecca comments.

“This is when I usually come home,” Jillian says with a shrug. “I miss my family too much to stay much later.”

“I suppose that is fair,” Rebecca says.

Jillian pulls apart the tower and starts again. “How was babysitting duty?”

“Not unbearable, but I still believe we should leave it to Connie.”

“You know we only slapped you on ’sitting duty to keep you out of the lab, right? You’re supposed to be retired. You gotta start acting like it.”

Rebecca raises an eyebrow. “By watching your children for you?”

Jillian rolls her eyes. “That was just an excuse to keep you from working. You should really go live your life, though. Go on a vacation with Connie. Go play shuffleboard on a cruise or whatever old people do.”

“Jillian.”

“Fine, not that. But you should be doing something that makes you happy.”

“Work makes me—”

“Not work. Jesus. Connie likes coming here and playing with the kids. You don’t. That’s fine, but you gotta find something to do.”

“I like coming here,” Rebecca says, but it sounds forced.

Jillian shrugs. “You don’t have to lie, Becca. You like spending time with them on your terms. I know you love them in your own way. You’re just an unorthodox grandma, and that’s okay. I’m not offended by it.”

“I’m not their grandmother,” Rebecca says with a huff.

“Grandma,” Dana says on cue.

“You keep telling yourself that,” Jillian says.

Rebecca still looks mildly irritated. Jillian licks her lips and turns an orange block over in her hands.

“Sorry,” she says. “I know that bothers you when I call you that. I’ll stop.”

Rebecca doesn’t say anything. Jillian continues to focus on the block in her hands. She swallows.

“Becca, I’ve never really said it, but…I don’t care whether or not you think of yourself as a grandparent or want to call yourself one. All that matters to me is that you’re here, a part of my kids’ lives. Blood relation or not, your involvement means more to me than you know.” She exhales. “I never knew my grandparents. It never bothered me that much because I didn’t know what I was missing. Whenever I see you and Connie—or Mark and Brenda for that matter—interacting with the kids, it just makes me so happy that they have you.”

She sets the block down finally and looks up. Dana is watching her solemnly. Rebecca is staring at the book.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I really appreciate that you’re here. I know kids aren’t really your thing and you kind of got thrown into this. But at the end of the day, you don’t have to be here, and you are, and I’m grateful for that.”

Upstairs, there’s the sound of the front door.

“We’re home,” Erin calls.

Dana perks up at the sound of her voice. “Mama! Go up.”

Jillian stands and reaches to pick up Dana from Rebecca’s lap. She transfers her to her hip and glances down at Rebecca, who looks like maybe she wants to say something.

“Let’s go say hi to Mama,” Jillian says. “ _Don Quixote_ will have to wait for a minute. Say bye-bye, Dana.”

“Bye-bye, Grandma,” Dana says.

Jillian bites her lip.

“Goodbye, Dana,” Rebecca says.

And as Jillian sets Dana down on the stairs and follows her upstairs, she decides that she’d consider that a minor success.

 

 


	4. iv.

_2023_

They’re shopping at a mall, all five of them, on a weekend, which is essentially a recipe for disaster.

The main problem area is Dana. At just-about-three, she’s a complete wildcard in public places.

“ _Hey_ ,” Erin says sharply. They all stop walking. “ _Dana_. Did you just bite me?”

“No,” Dana says cheekily.

Erin rolls her eyes. “Yeah, alright.” She looks back at Jillian, who’s watching in amusement. “Can you take her?” Someone has to have a solid grasp on her at any moment that they’re in public. She’s what they like to call ‘high flight risk.’ She takes after Erin.

Jillian obliges, taking Dana’s hand.

Erin rubs her wrist where Dana got her as they start walking again. “I can’t believe her. This has to stop. It happened at daycare on Monday, did you hear about that? She bit one of the other kids.”

“You’re not allowed to bite, Dana,” Will says. “That’s bad.”

“I bet the kid deserved it,” Jillian says to Laura, who snorts. “Say sorry to mama, Dana.”

“Sorry, mama. I love you.”

Erin looks down at her. “Well, you can’t bite me, then. We don’t bite people that we love.”

There’s a period of at least thirty seconds of silence as they keep walking.

“…or anyone,” Erin adds quickly as an afterthought. “We don’t bite anyone. It’s bad, like Will said.”

“That never stopped me before,” Holtz stage-whispers.

Erin smacks her arm. Laura dissolves into laughter.

“I love this disaster family,” she says.

 

_1998_

Jillian grabs her patchwork bag and slings it over her shoulder, giving Luke a kiss goodbye on her way to the door.

“You want me to drive you to school?” Mark asks, like he always does.

“Nope,” she answers, like she always does. She hesitates by the door. “I’m gonna be a little late coming home today.”

Mark frowns. “Again? Doing what?”

She and Erin and Abby have plans to work on their science fair project at Abby’s house. It’s the third time this week.

“School project,” she says, which isn’t a lie, at least.

“Oh,” he says in surprise. “Of course. Do you need some money for supplies or anything?”

“Nah,” she says. “I think we’re okay.”

“Do you need to come here to work on it? You’re more than welcome to,” he says eagerly. His keenness for her to have friends is so obvious.

She knows she should just tell him about Erin and Abby, because it’s becoming increasingly hard to not talk about them when she’s spending more time with them outside of school, but she can’t bring herself to say anything. She doesn’t know why.

Maybe she just doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he made the right call in forcing her to go back to school. Sure, it _was_ the right call, 100%, and she knows that the difference in her is extremely noticeable, but she’s still a little bitter that he forced her against her will to go.

“That’s what the library is for,” she says, “but thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He smiles. “You do that. Good luck with the project.”

“Thanks, Mark,” she says with a smile of her own, then slips out the door.

 

_2019_

Erin gets home from the lab and finds Jillian in front of her drafting table in the spare room, much like she has been every day this week. She comes up behind her and drapes both arms over her shoulders, kissing the top of her head.

“Welcome home,” Jillian says, twisting in her chair to give Erin a proper kiss. “How was work?”

“Fine. Uneventful. Patty was asking about you again.”

“Face it, I’ve left a void there that will never be filled.”

Erin rolls her eyes and sits on the bed. “And what did you do all day, oh Important One?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Jillian spins in the chair to face her with a wide grin. “I shall answer your question with a question of my own: Have you ever looked at a uterus, Erin? I mean, _really_ looked?”

Erin blinks. “I…try not to?”

Jillian leans back in her chair, spreading both hands in the air. “The design of it is just breathtaking. The perfect vessel to carry human life.”

“Where are you going with this?” Erin asks warily.

Jillian rolls closer in her chair. “I’ve been looking at my proton pack power problem and thinking…what if there were two streams bringing energy to two focalized points on either side—”

Erin holds up a hand. “I’m going to stop this train of thought before it has a chance to leave the platform. Jillian, I don’t think walking around with uteruses on our back is going to do a whole lot of good with the whole misogynistic hate mail situation, if I’m being honest.”

“It’s a symbol of _power,_ Erin! What’s more powerful than a person with a uterus? What kind of feminists would we be if we aren’t willing to march with nuclear uteri on our backs?”

“The smart kind,” Erin says dryly. “Also, there’s nothing inherently feminist about a uterus. It’s just a body part. Lots of women don’t even have one, and they’re just as powerful. I think you need to go back to the drawing board on this one.”

“The symbolism alone is utterly magnificent,” Jillian continues, not listening. “Even if you factor out the raw _energy_ of the structure—”

“Jillian—”

“I’m going to run this by Rebecca. I bet she’ll love it.”

“ _Jillian_.”

“By the way—Nuclear Uteri, new band name, I’m calling it.”

Erin drops her head into her hands.

 

_1993_

“Are you really going to do this?”

Jillian looks over at Erin, who’s sitting on a log by the edge of the lake. “Are you really _not_ going to do this?”

Erin crosses her arms. “No! Someone could see!”

“The only person around here is me, GG. Everyone else is at the bonfire.”

“ _You’ll_ see me.”

“So?” Jillian pulls her t-shirt off over her head and tosses it to the ground.

Erin looks in the other direction. “ _Sooo_ it’s weird.”

“Why’s it weird? You already saw me naked when you were helping me with the maple syrup. We gotta make it even.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yuh huh.” Jillian kicks off her shorts and underwear and then runs towards the lake. The water splashes up around her and gets colder the further in she gets.

“How is it?” Erin calls from the shore.

“Cold,” Jillian calls back, “but freeing.”

She can picture Erin’s eye roll. She smiles to herself and dunks underwater. When she pops back up to the surface, she sees a figure has appeared at the edge of the lake. A tall figure. Not Erin.

“Hey,” the counsellor shouts, “no swimming after hours. Get out of there, Jillian.”

Erin is standing up now, hand covering her mouth. She’s probably laughing.

Jillian swims closer, keeping submerged up to her neck. “Uhhhhh…”

“ _Now,_ Jillian. There’s no lifeguard on duty.” The counsellor crosses her arms. “Don’t make me say it again.”

“Here’s the thing—”

“ _Out_.”

There’s no avoiding this.

She quickly stands up, covering as much as she can, and runs for shore.

“Where’s my towel?” Jillian asks Erin as she gets closer.

Erin shrugs. “I lost it.”

The counsellor looks like she’s holding back laughter.

“Please don’t tell the director,” Jillian says.

“I won’t,” she says. “Somehow, I think this is punishment enough. Get dressed and report back to the bonfire so we can keep an eye on you two.” She chuckles and turns to leave.

Once she’s gone, Erin bends and retrieves Jillian’s towel from behind the log. “Oh, look, I found it!”

“I hate you,” Jillian says as she catches the towel and wraps it around her body.

“Don’t blame me,” Erin says with a grin. “It was your idea to go skinny dipping.”

“Worth it,” Jillian says confidently.

 

_2004_

Erin probably shouldn’t be here.

She wasn’t even going to come, despite her thesis advisor hinting for months that she should. He kept saying that it would be good for her to socialize, good for her to be around people—as if he knew the first thing about losing two parents in two months and the grief she’s going through.

She wasn’t going to come, but then a few days ago she got a voicemail.

From Jillian. Jillian who she hasn’t heard from in two years.

She hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. That’s why she’s here—to take advantage of the open bar and try to forget everything that’s happened in the last few months.

She tips back the last sip of her gin and tonic and surveys the room, filled with faces from the Princeton physics department, some familiar and some unfamiliar.

“Hi,” a shy voice says.

Erin startles back to reality to take in the woman who has materialized beside her. She’s got a round face, short bristled hair, and she’s wearing an unbuttoned vest over a light blue pinstriped shirt that’s rolled up at the sleeves.

“Hi,” Erin says carefully.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” the woman says, extending her hand. “I’m Shelby. Experimental gravity and cosmology.”

They shake hands. Shelby has a firm grip.

“Erin. Theoretical particle physics.”

“Erin Gilbert? I’ve heard about you.”

Erin pales. “You have?”

“You work with Dr. Branum, right?”

Erin swallows. “Yes?”

“I had a class with him last year,” Shelby says. She sounds and looks unimpressed.

“Not a fan?” Erin guesses. “His style isn’t for everyone.”

There’s a pause. “Yeah, let’s say that.”

Shelby shoots a glance across the room to where Dr. Branum is standing by a Christmas tree, talking to a girl that Erin doesn’t recognize who looks uncomfortable. He looks over at them suddenly, like he can hear them talking about him, and frowns.

Shelby rubs her neck. “Listen, I hope I’m not overstepping, but…”

Erin waits for her to say what has been on Erin’s mind for months: Dr. Branum is a bit of a creep, definitely sexist, and she should transfer somewhere else to finish her PhD.

“…can I get you a drink?”

“What?” Erin blurts.

“I’m sorry,” Shelby says, “but you seem…really cool. And you’re very pretty—”

“I’m not gay,” Erin says quickly. “Did someone tell you I’m gay? I’m not. I’m not gay. I don’t—I’m not—”

“Whoa.” Shelby holds up her hands. “Sorry. I don’t—nobody told me anything. I just thought—that’s my bad. Sorry.” She backs away hurriedly, face colouring, then turns and cuts across the room.

Erin can only stand there in stunned silence, gripping her empty glass.

Dr. Branum appears out of nowhere.

“Ms. Gilbert,” he says.

Perfect. Awesome.

“Hi, Dr. Branum,” she grumbles.

“Was that _woman_ bothering you?” he says contentiously.

“What? No.” Erin shakes her head. “I mean—no. Maybe. No.”

“Careful, Erin,” he says, leaning in close enough that Erin can smell the liquor on his breath and the stink of his cologne, “a pretty girl such as yourself doesn’t want to _associate_ with the wrong sort of people.” He sneers distastefully in Shelby’s direction.

Erin stares at her feet.

“No,” she says, “I guess I don’t.”

 

_2020_

Jillian opens her eyes, realizes she’s in a hospital bed, and blinks, disoriented.

Then she realizes what woke her up.

Erin is pacing the small room, holding a small mess of blankets that’s crying.

Right. The infant that was, up until a few hours ago, camped out inside her uterus, is now…

“Shoot,” Erin says, “I was hoping I could get her back asleep before you woke up.”

“What’d you do to her blanket?” Jillian asks.

“I don’t know,” Erin says voice slightly hysterical. “It came undone and she won’t stop crying and I’m freaking out. I’m already a terrible mother.”

Jillian sits up and pats the bed in front of her. “Bring ’er here.”

Erin stoops over and sets down the kicking bundle on the bed. Jillian leans over her.

“Well, you fucked up my perfectly good swaddle,” she says. “That’s probably why she’s crying.”

“Right,” Erin says, back to pacing. She presses her fingers to her temple. “Swaddling. I knew about swaddling. I read about swaddling. Why did I forget about swaddling?”

Jillian looks up in amusement. “Have you slept?”

Erin stops. “No, why? Have you?”

Jillian turns her attention to Dana, scooping her up in one arm, shaking out the receiving blanket and laying it flat, and placing her back down on it. “You should probably take a nap.”

“I don’t need a nap,” Erin says quickly. “I’m fine. I don’t want to leave you alone with the baby.”

Jillian raises an eyebrow as she swaddles Dana again with expert ease. “I’m insulted.”

“No, I mean—not like that—I just want you to be able to sleep, and—wow, she’s…she stopped crying. How did you do that?”

Jillian picks up Dana and settles back against her pillows. “I was thirteen when Luke was born. I helped _raise_ him. I know my way around a swaddle.”

Erin slumps down into a chair. “Right. It’s just…I read all of the books. And you read none of the books. I should be able to make her stop crying.”

“Hey, I read some of the books.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I listened to you _tell_ me about some of the books.”

Erin yawns. “Yeah, I guess you did.”

“Take a nap,” Jillian says. “Someone else can keep me company. Where is everyone, by the way?”

“Waiting room,” Erin mumbles sleepily. “I went out to tell them the news and told them they could come see her after you woke up.”

“Well, I’m awake now. Why don’t you go get someone and then take a nap?”

“Fine,” Erin grumbles.

While she’s gone, Jillian touches Dana’s little nose.

“I don’t know who you’re about to meet, but you might have to tone down the cute, alright? Don’t want to overwhelm anyone with it.”

There’s a soft knock on the open door. Mark is standing in the doorframe.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “How’s my granddaughter?”

“Phenomenal, I think,” Jillian says. “Where’s your wife?”

“She went back to the hotel to sleep for a bit. She’ll be back soon.”

“Where’s _my_ wife?”

Mark looks over his shoulder into the hall. “Uh…I don’t know. She _was_ with me…”

“She’s probably passed out against a wall somewhere.” Jillian waves her hand. “Don’t worry about it. Come on in.”

Mark steps closer, coming up to the side of the bed and bending his head to get a closer look. “Wow,” he says. “Jillian…”

“I know,” Jillian says. “She’s gorgeous, she’s perfect, she looks just like me, yada yada. All that crap.”

Mark laughs softly, still gazing lovingly at Dana. “I was actually going to say that I’m proud of you.”

“Proud of me? Pssh, I push seven-pound screaming flesh bricks out of my crotch every day.”

Mark looks up, stares at her.

“Besides,” she says, “this one has had a bigger day than I have. Making the big move from womb to world? I can’t imagine the courage that takes.”

Mark chuckles. “You sure are something. Can I hold her?”

“Of course, Grandpa.”

Mark smiles as Jillian passes the baby to him. “I really am proud of you. You made a lot of sacrifices to bring her into the world.”

Jillian flops back against her pillows again. “You’re telling me. My sex life is toast for the foreseeable future.”

Mark rolls his eyes as he takes a seat. “You know, she actually does look like you.”

Jillian turns her head. “Thanks, but I know you’re legally obligated to say that.”

“She does,” Mark insists. “You don’t see it?”

“She’s a potato with eyes, Gramps.” Jillian finger-guns him. “She looks like all other newborn humans.”

“If your mom was here, she’d say the same thing. She looks exactly like you did as a baby.”

“Hey, no pulling the dead mom card,” Jillian says. “I’ve been doing surprisingly well at not crying today, and I’m not gonna blow it now.”

“She would’ve been proud of you, too.”

Jillian wags her finger at him. “I said stop that.” She turns her head back and stares up at the ceiling. “It’s hard enough that she’s not here right now.” She swallows. “It sucks even more than it did at the wedding. Maybe it’s because I know she would’ve been the most kick-ass grandma.” She sighs.

Mark is silent. She turns her head again to see him completely entranced by Dana.

“Hey, Mark?”

He looks up.

“Do you ever wish that you were around when I was born?” she asks.

He frowns and considers that. “Do I wish I was a part of your childhood? Of course I do. I hate that I missed nine years of your life.”

“But do you wish you were there when I was born?”

He hesitates. “Do you mean do I wish I was your biological father?”

She chews on her lip.

He stands up with Dana and comes to sit on the edge of the bed. “I think you know more than anyone that DNA doesn’t make a parent. At the end of the day, a parent is someone who loves and supports their kid and helps them grow into whoever they want to be. I’m sure Erin would agree with me, and so would Rebecca and Connie.” He pauses. “Maybe not Rebecca. Regardless…I’ll always be your dad, Jillian. You know that.”

She nods happily, eyes watery, then freezes. “ _Fuck_.” She points at her eyes. “You broke my crying streak. Unbelievable.”

He laughs. “You’d better clean up that mouth of yours,” he says. “You’ve got an impressionable daughter now.”

“Goddammit,” she says as she takes Dana back into her arms, “I think you’re right.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts? Scenes you've always wondered about? Let me know!


	5. v.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who loves her OC a little too much? Presenting: the Amber chapter :)

_2031_

Erin is pushing a cart through the aisles of Walmart, Dana in tow, when she enters the sporting goods aisle in search of something to keep the ten-year-old busy over spring break. Instead, she finds something much different.

Slumped down at the end of the aisle with her back against a shelf of soccer balls, is Amber.

Erin leaves the shopping cart and runs, remembering that Amber suffers from seizures.

“Amber?” she calls.

Amber lifts her head, and Erin is met not with a vacant expression like she was expecting, but red eyes and tear tracks. “Erin?”

Erin crouches in front of her. “Are you okay?” As she says it, she recognizes it’s probably a stupid question. ‘Crying alone in a Walmart’ and ‘okay’ aren’t exactly synonymous.

“I’m okay,” Amber says, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She peers around Erin. “Hey, kid.”

Dana has put down the book she’s been buried in as they’ve walked around the store, which is saying something. “Hey, Auntie Amber. Are you and Aunt Krystal getting a divorce?”

“ _Dana_ ,” Erin says sharply.

Amber laughs weakly. “Oh, honey, no. Me and Krystal are great.”

“Okay,” Dana says, and turns back to her book.

Erin pinches the bridge of her nose, then looks back at Amber. “What’s going on?”

“I’m okay, really,” Amber says. “It’s just been a weird day.”

She extends her hand for Erin to help her up. They both stand.

“Do you want to go grab coffee, or something?” Erin glances at Dana. “I can drop her at Rebecca and Connie’s…”

“Where’s Jillian?”

“Switzerland,” Erin says. “That CERN conference she was invited to speak at is this week.”

“Right, I knew that. Where’s Will?”

“At the gym with his friend, Brad.”

“They’re boyfriends,” Dana says without looking up from her book.

Erin shushes her. “No speculating. If there’s something going on, he’ll tell us when he feels ready. Respect his privacy.”

Dana rolls her eyes. “He literally told me.”

“What? Seriously? When?” Erin shakes her head. “Why hasn’t he told me?”

“I dunno, Mom, maybe because you’re old and uncool. Respect his privacy.”

“ _Dana_.”

“She’s a very blunt child,” Amber says, amused. Her eyes have dried.

“She spends too much time with Rebecca,” Erin says. “Speaking of which: coffee?”

Amber gives her a half-smile. “Definitely.”

After both of them have checked out, piled into the minivan, and delivered Dana to Rebecca and Connie, they end up going back to the house for coffee instead of going out. Erin senses they might need some privacy. Erin unpacks her Walmart bags and waits for Amber to speak first.

“You lost your parents when you were pretty young, right?” Amber says finally.

Erin pauses, one hand on the cupboard door. “I was twenty-four.”

“They must’ve also been young then, huh? How’d they go, if you don’t mind me askin’?”

“Lung cancer for my dad. Alcoholism for my mom. A month apart, and not coincidentally.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.” Erin comes to sit across from Amber at the kitchen table.

Amber fiddles with her wedding ring. “How are Rebecca and Connie doing these days, health-wise?”

Erin can sense that this is heading in a central direction. “They’re okay, but…well, they’re getting up there. I’ve tried to talk to Jillian about it a few times, but she’s deep in denial and likes to pretend that they’ll be around forever…well, she’s convinced that Rebecca will come back to haunt the lab after she’s gone, but that’s another story.”

Amber laughs lightly. “And Mark and Brenda?”

“Mark’s good. Brenda’s turning eighty this year, and her health has been declining. She’s had a few bad falls…Mark is doing a good job taking care of her now, but that won’t last long. Luckily, they’ve got enough money that they’ll both be moving to the best nursing home that money can buy when the time comes. Neither of them are so stubborn that they’ll need much convincing to go, mercifully.”

Amber stares at the table.

Erin almost doesn’t want to ask the question, but she’s pretty sure that Amber needs her to.

“How are your parents?” she says softly.

Amber smiles wistfully. “More stubborn than Mark and Brenda. They won’t leave their house behind, and they…aren’t as well-off. We can’t afford to get them the help they need. I think we’re gonna have to move in with them soon…I was at the doctor with them today and my mom, she, uh…they just diagnosed her. Alzheimer’s. It’s bad already. She probably only has a few years.”

Erin swears quietly. “I’m sorry,” she says, pain in her voice. “That’s such a horrible way to go. My aunt, she was diagnosed, too. She thought she could cure it naturally…crystals, herbal remedies…that kind of stuff…”

“Did she?”

Erin shakes her head sadly. “She passed away last January.”

They both fall silent. Amber’s eyes are filled with tears again.

Erin covers Amber’s hands with her own across the table.

“We’re here for you and Krystal, alright? If you need anything, let us know.” She hesitates. “I may have lost my parents a long time ago, but I still lost them. It’s incredibly hard no matter what stage of life they’re at. And Jillian—well, you know Jillian’s story. Bottom line, we’re here for you.”

Amber nods and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “Thank you.”

There’s a heavy silence between them for a pause.

“So, Will’s boyfriend. Let’s talk about that,” Amber says. “You really didn’t know? It’s all he ever talks about.”

“ _Seriously?”_

 

_2020_

Jillian pulls open the front door and grins. “Why, hello!”

Amber stares at her warily. “Why are you holding your baby upside down?”

Jillian glances down. “It’s a belly hold. This is a completely normal position to hold a baby in. She loves it.”

“Then why is she crying?”

“Life as a baby is very trying,” Jillian deadpans. “Are you coming in?”

Amber tilts her head. “Hon, your tit is out.”

Jillian looks down again. “Ah. Devious rascal.”

“Now, I know we had somethin’ special, but you’ve gotta understand that I’m _happily_ engaged…”

Jillian shoves it back in her shirt and looks up with a smirk. “You think you’re so funny. Come on, you’re letting the cold in.”

Amber steps inside and pulls the door shut behind her. Jillian walks into the living room, then freezes, turns, and pokes her head into the hallway again.

“Did you just say _engaged?”_

Amber turns her head with a smirk of her own from where she’s putting her coat in the closet. “You’re so attentive.”

“Hey, I can barely keep my tit under control and this child has been having a meltdown for the past half hour. I can’t be expected to listen all the time. So, engaged? That’s fantastic!”

Amber joins them in the living room. “Yep, I finally got myself a replacement fiancée.” She holds out her left hand.

Jillian takes one look at the ring and looks back up. “Uh. That’s your grandmother’s ring. That’s the ring I proposed to you with.”

“Yeah? Problem? I was the one who proposed to Krystal, but I still wanted one. I’ve always loved this one. Why not use it instead of buyin’ myself one?”

“Fair point,” Jillian says. “I want to hear all about this proposal, but first I really gotta pee. Here—” She shoves Dana at Amber.

“What? Nuh uh. I don’t want this.” Amber awkwardly takes the baby into her arms, holding her a good distance from her body.

“It’s a baby, not an STD,” Jillian says, already making a break for the bathroom.

“What’s the difference?” Amber calls after her.

As Jillian is washing her hands, she pauses just to take a breather and study herself in the mirror. Her hair, greasy from not being washed in a while, is pulled back into a scraggly bun. There are deep purple bags under her eyes. Her shirt is full of holes and her tit is falling out again.

For some reason, she sees her mom in her reflection. The mom she remembers from her early childhood, long before she met Mark. Back when she was struggling way more than she’d ever let on.

She sighs, splashes a little water on her face, and exits the bathroom. Amber is standing right outside the door and thrusts still-crying Dana at her the second she steps out.

“Seriously?” Jillian rests Dana against her shoulder. “That was like a minute.”

“I’m not a baby person,” Amber says.

Jillian gives her a look. “No, really?”

They head back to the living room. Jillian sinks into her recliner in the corner and props Dana up on her lap in the hopes that it’ll quiet her down. Amber kicks back on the couch and squints.

“What does that say on her onesie?”

Jillian looks down. “ _I put ketchup on my ketchup_.”

“…Why?”

“Thought it was funny. Erin doesn’t. But you know what they say…when the Erin’s away, the fun clothes come out to play.”

“Does she eat ketchup yet?”

It’s Jillian’s turn to squint. “She’s three months old. Do you have any concept at all of how babies work?”

“I thought I was very clear that I absolutely do not.”

Jillian snorts.

“You know,” Amber says, “with the recliner and the ratty wifebeater, you’re giving off some serious redneck dad vibes right now. All that’s missing is a beer.”

Jillian lifts her fingers in a tired peace sign. “Wicked. That’s obviously all I aspire to be as a parent.”

Amber laughs. “So, you want to hear the engagement story?”

“Absolutely. Dana, shhh.”

“Alright, so we went out to dinner—I’m sorry, I seriously can’t concentrate when your tit is hangin’ all over the place.”

“I can’t control it. That one just likes a party. Here, Dana—it’s out anyway. Might as well take it.” She lifts and turns the baby until she latches. “Better?”

“Well, she stopped crying,” Amber says.

Jillian waves her free hand. “Continue.”

“Right. So, we went out to dinner, and then we went and saw a movie—”

“Which one?”

“That one with the girl from the thing.”

“Oh, yes, I wanted to see that one.”

“Anyway, we got back from the movie, back to our place, and we were gettin’ ready for bed, and I looked over at her and I said ‘You know what I want to do? I want to marry you.’” Amber pauses for dramatic effect. “And she said ‘I want to marry you, too.’ So I got the ring out of my nightstand and I gave it to her.”

There’s a long pause. “That’s it? Where’s the flash? The sentiment? The spectacle? The romance?”

“Fuck off, it was beautiful.”

Jillian covers Dana’s ear, aghast. “Don’t swear in front of my daughter.”

“Shit.” Amber claps her hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

Jillian laughs. “Gotcha! I don’t give a shit. I’m pretty sure her first word is going to be ‘fuck.’”

“Erin must love that.”

“Anyway, I kid. That proposal sounds really sweet. Simple. Classic.”

Amber smiles. “I’m really happy.”

“I’m happy you’re happy, m’dear.” Jillian yawns.

Amber surveys her. “How are you doing, hon? You look like…a bit of a mess.”

“I’m fine,” Jillian says immediately.

“Come on,” Amber says. “Don’t lie to me. Aren’t you supposed to be, y’know, openin’ up about the things you’re strugglin’ with? Isn’t that why I’m here?”

“You’re here,” Jillian says, “because Erin is out of town for the first time since Dana was born and Rebecca and Connie are busy today.”

“And you need help.”

“I don’t need help.” Jillian scratches at her ear. “I just wanted some company.”

“Isn’t that what the baby is for?”

“She doesn’t talk much.”

As if on cue, Dana finishes eating. Jillian tucks her boob back inside her shirt and lifts Dana over her shoulder again, patting her back.

Amber watches her in that deep, perceptive way that makes Jillian feel exposed. “Go take a shower,” she says finally.

“I don’t need—”

“You look like hell. Please. Go shower. I’ll watch the baby.”

Jillian raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“We’ll be fine. Go. Also, she definitely just spit up on your shoulder. Now you _really_ need a shower.”

“Oh, please,” Jillian says with a roll of her eyes, “I’ve had worse substances on me in the past _hour_.” She stands and crosses the room, transferring the baby into Amber’s waiting arms.

“That’s right, ketchup baby, you’re gonna get to know your Auntie Amber.” Amber looks up. “What are you waitin’ for? Go.”

Jillian gives her a little half-smile, then darts for the stairs.

She keeps the shower quick but thorough, making sure to wash her hair well. Then she gets dressed in clean, slightly more appropriate clothes and is about to head back downstairs when she hears noise coming from the nursery. She pokes her head in to see Amber bent over the change table, cursing to herself.

“Whatcha doing?”

Amber’s head snaps up. “I, uh…we had an accident. There’s poop…everywhere.”

Jillian snorts and strolls over to the table. “Typical. Who’s my poopy baby? Yes, you are.”

“I cleaned her up and changed her diaper,” Amber says proudly.

Jillian lifts up the baby and grins at her. “Did Auntie Amber put your diaper on backwards? How silly,” she coos.

“Dammit. Really?”

Jillian chuckles. “Don’t worry about it. I got it.” She fixes the diaper and cleans up the rest of the mess, then finds a clean onesie that reads _WORLD’S OKAYEST LAST NAME BABY_.

“The hell is that?”

“Isn’t it great? I found it at a thrift store. My theory is that someone ordered it online and forgot to put their last name instead of the placeholder text, so instead of facing their shame, they donated it.”

Amber laughs, then quiets. “Hey, will you let me do your hair?”

Jillian looks back at her. “I’m not due for a cut yet, am I?”

“No, I meant here. Let me do it up for you. I bet it’ll make you feel better.”

Jillian gives her a little smile. “Why not.”

They get a fold-out chair from the closet at the end of the hall and set it up in the bathroom. Jillian puts Dana in her bouncy chair and then takes a seat herself.

Amber blow-dries Jillian’s wet hair and then picks through the hair products on the counter. When she’s satisfied that she has what she needs, she comes and stands behind the chair, running her fingers through Jillian’s hair.

“Where is Erin, anyway?” she says as she starts sectioning off pieces.

“New York,” Jillian says. “She’s at a conference. With Abby and Patty.”

Amber pauses. “They’re all there without you?”

“Yeah,” Jillian says, throat tight. “I mean, obviously I couldn’t go. I can’t be apart from Dana.”

“Couldn’t you have gone to New York anyway, just to see everyone? Taken the baby with you?”

Jillian stares at the floor. “Seemed like too much hassle for a four-day trip.”

Amber’s hands get back to work. Twisting, pulling. “That still sucks.”

Jillian shrugs. “It’s fine. I wanted Erin to go. She deserves a break.”

“What about you? Don’t you deserve a break?”

“I’m the one who wanted—it was my decision to be the—” She sighs in frustration at the words not coming out the way she wants. “Erin goes back to work in a month and a half. This is what it’s going to be like.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Well, it’s been hell without her here. And that’s only with Dana—when she’s back at work full time, I’m going to have the kids, too, and—I don’t know if—” Her eyes fill with tears and she blinks them back, ashamed.

Amber comes around the chair and crouches in front of her, reaching out to take both her hands. “Hey. It’s okay. You’re not gonna be alone, alright? You’re gonna have so much help. Krystal and I can come by and put on diapers backwards as much as you need us. Rebecca and Connie have got your back.” She squeezes her hands. “And you know Erin would drop everything in a heartbeat if you needed help.”

“That’s the problem,” Jillian says. “She _would._ She’s already talked about extending her parental leave if I’m not ready. But I couldn’t do that to her. Her career is just taking off. The program is supposed to launch next fall. She needs to get back to work. She _wants_ to get back to work.”

“But she loves you,” Amber reminds her, “and she loves Dana and Laura and Will, and I _know_ she would prioritize her family over her work any day.”

Jillian hangs her head. “I just feel so pathetic. There are so many single parents out there who do this. My _mom_ did this. I don’t know why I’m so scared.”

“You’re scared because it’s new and scary. You said this is the first time Erin’s been out of town, and the longest you’ve been without her, right? Of course it’s hard. But you’re kickin’ ass. Seriously. You’re so calm and you’re doin’ an amazing job with Dana. Are you slacking on personal hygiene? Of course. But I think that’s normal and okay.” She stands up and comes back around behind Jillian again, picking up where she left off. “The important thing is that whenever Erin does go back to work, you’re gonna be okay. More than okay. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jillian says with a sniffle.

By the time Amber has finished, Jillian’s tears are dry and she’s feeling much calmer. Dana is even asleep in her chair.

“There,” Amber says, giving the top a little fluff with her hand, “doesn’t that make you feel so much better?”

Jillian takes in the familiar poof and the way it makes her look more like herself than she has in a while, and she feels a strange kind of comfort. She swallows.

“Yeah,” she says, “it really does.”

 

_2023_

Erin quietly opens the door at the back of the lecture hall, slips inside, and takes a seat in the back row, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. She sets her briefcase down in front of her feet and pulls a notepad and pen from it, then leans back, uncapping the pen.

She listens captively to the speaker, jotting down items of interest, even copying down some illustrations from the board. The whole lecture is fascinating from start to finish.

When the guest lecturer is done speaking, there’s a healthy round of applause. Erin eagerly claps and leaps from her seat as everyone around her begins to pack up. She picks up her briefcase and tucks her notebook under her arm as she hurries down the stairs towards the front.

The speaker is answering a student’s question by the podium when she gets there, so she waits her turn. No sooner has the student stepped away when the lecturer notices Erin and her face lights up.

“Erin?”

“That was an amazing lecture, Amber,” Erin says.

“C’mere,” Amber says, opening her arms to pull Erin in for a hug. “What’re you doing here?”

“I came to hear you speak! Jillian mentioned offhand that you were giving a guest lecture at Harvard and I couldn’t resist looking it up and coming to surprise you.” She holds up her notepad as proof.

Amber grins. “You took notes?”

“Absolutely,” Erin says. “I learned so much. I’m sorry I missed the first few minutes—I came directly from teaching a seminar.” She notices a line forming behind her. “I should stop monopolizing your time, but I’d love to talk more. Do you have anywhere else to be? Would you like to stop by my office when you’re done here to catch up?”

“Absolutely,” Amber says warmly. “Text me directions?”

“Will do,” Erin says, then steps around the line and gives Amber a wave as she departs.

It’s about forty-five minutes later when Amber knocks on the door frame of her office and pokes her head in.

Erin stands. “Come in!”

“Sorry that took so long.” Amber steps inside and drops her bag on the floor by one of the chairs. “There were lots of questions.”

“That’s fantastic,” Erin says eagerly. “That really was an amazing lecture.”

“Thank you,” Amber says with a grin. She takes a seat in front of Erin’s desk, leaning forward to pluck a picture frame off it. “Aw, that’s a nice one.”

Erin smiles as she sits back down. The photo in question was taken less than a month ago—at Christmas dinner. They took a photo of all of them seated around the dining room table at Rebecca and Connie’s place. Erin was surprised when the two of them offered to host Christmas dinner this year. It’s the first time they’ve been invited over for a holiday—Rebecca has never been keen on having all the kids over to their place at once, but Connie said it was her idea, incredibly. Erin doesn’t know what changed.

“So, how are you? How’s Krystal doing?” Erin shuffles some papers and moves them out of her way so she can lean her elbows on her desk.

Amber laughs. “We’re both good. She just got a promotion last week.”

“Oh, wow! Pass along my congratulations,” Erin says.

“Will do.” Amber sets the picture frame back down on the desk after studying it for a moment longer. “How’re the kids?”

“Good, good,” Erin says, bobbing her head. “Laura’s excited for the new semester, and she’s liking all her classes so far. Did you hear that she’s taking Introduction to Cultural Anthropology because of you?”

“Yeah! She texted me. That’s awesome.”

“Will has started working on his science fair project, and as you can imagine, Jillian is going a little overboard helping him plan the whole thing. The latest designs include anti-gravity elements.”

“Sounds about right. How’s the little one?”

Erin lets out a long sigh.

Amber laughs. “That good, huh?”

“What can I say? She’s two. She’s…acting like a two-year-old.” Erin shakes her head with an amused smile. “We’re working on it, but there’s only so much you can do. I keep telling myself that it’s temporary and she’ll grow out of it, but…well, look at her mother.”

Amber snorts. “And how is she doin’?”

Erin fiddles with a pen. “Better now. It’s been a definite adjustment, her going back to work. I keep thinking that maybe we made a mistake, kept her off for too long. Three years is a long time to spend off work. Maybe it wouldn’t have been as hard if she went back sooner. Or maybe it would’ve been worse.” She sighs again. “The first semester was rough. Not just for the family, but for her. This semester is already going better. I think she knows what to expect now.”

“Think she’ll stick with it?”

“Definitely,” Erin says. “I can tell that she’s excited to be back in the lab. She’s missed work. She’s just…getting used to being away from Dana. Getting used to not always being home when Laura gets home, or when I get home with Will. She tries to leave as early as she can, but sometimes the grad students complicate things. Some days she’s had to stay late dealing with stuff and we’ve had to have dinner without her, which has been really upsetting for her. Like I said, it’s an adjustment. It’ll get easier.”

“Sounds like the days are long gone of her being impossible to drag away from the lab, at least.”

“That’s for sure,” Erin says with a light laugh. “She’s got different priorities now.”

Amber smiles.

Erin finds her notebook from earlier and flips it open. “So, I actually had a few more questions from your lecture…”

Amber laughs again. “I’m all ears, hon.”

 

_2014_

“Tell me about your first time.”

Holtz freezes.

Amber twines their hands together and snuggles closer in bed, nuzzling her nose against Holtz’s. “Come on. You slept with half the world before me and you’ve told me about a lot of the weird ones. Indulge me. I wanna know about the first.”

Holtz doesn’t say anything. Her heart is racing. She might throw up.

Amber studies her. “What? Was it a random bar hookup?” She pauses, a small smile appearing on her face. “Oh my god, can you not _remember_ because you’ve been with so many women? That’s it, isn’t it? I can’t believe this. I’m dating a slut.”

Holtz pulls away from her.

“Whoa,” Amber says. “It was a joke, baby, I swear. I’m sorry. You know I don’t care how many partners you’ve had. I was just curious.” She gently touches her bare arm. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Holtz rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling. She feels suddenly naked, even though she’s been naked for hours.

“It _was_ a bar hookup,” she says, trying to hide the shaking in her voice. “My old bar. Back in Ann Arbor. I hadn’t been bartending for long. I was…twenty-one.”

She closes her eyes and tries to remember that night. _That_ night.

“Her name was Noelle.”

“What was she like?”

_You sure you haven’t done this before?_

_Nope. I swear._

“Smooth-talking. Pretty. Confident. Experienced,” Holtz says robotically.

“How was it?”

_Sheets bunched in fists. String lights strung above the bed._

“It happened in the back of her car.”

_A hand splayed on her stomach. A question in her eyes._

“Did you ever see her again?”

Holtz opens her eyes.

“No,” she says. “I never saw her again in my life.”

 

_2021_

The five of them pile out of the minivan and into the church parking lot. Laura holds Dana on her hip while Erin helps Jillian tie her tie. Will is balance-beaming on the cement stopper in the spot beside them. He’s wearing track pants and a t-shirt—Amber was more lenient about ‘black tie optional’ with him than the rest of them given his hatred of formal wear. Jillian asked for an exemption too, but Amber told her to suck it up.

Erin herself is wearing a red dress that she bought for the occasion. Laura’s in a yellow dress, and Dana has been dressed in a blue dress that Jillian had rolled her eyes at when Erin bought it.

It’s only been a little over a week since the adoption was finalized in court, making this their debut event as a family, and all of them are humming with excitement. It’s also Halloween tomorrow, so Will is especially excited.

After Erin has finished with Jillian’s tie, she takes Dana from Laura and calls for Will to come. Jillian shrugs on her suit jacket, grabs the diaper bag, and locks the van. They head into the church together and grab seats about halfway to the front. Jillian immediately bounds away to go talk to some of the people she knows—a few of Amber’s family members, some mutual friends they have—and Erin stays put with the kids.

Will kicks his feet against the pew. Erin unzips the diaper bag and pulls out one of the comics she stashed there and passes it off to him. He thanks her and begins reading eagerly.

Dana squirms on Erin’s lap, clearly wanting to move.

“I’ll take her,” Laura says.

She lifts Dana and sets her feet down on the floor, holding her hands up to help her walk down the aisle. Dana breaks free from Laura’s grasp and stands holding the edge of a pew a few rows up. She screams gleefully and the people seated in the row smile at her fondly.

Laura stands by, watching her like the dutiful sister she is, so Erin turns her attention to her wife instead. Jillian has already loosened the tie around her neck, despite the wedding not having even begun yet. If her jacket stays on until the ceremony, it’ll be a miracle.

Jillian eventually wanders back after stopping to crouch in front of Dana and talk to her for a minute. As predicted, she has shed her jacket. She drapes it over the back of the pew and takes a seat beside Erin, hooking her thumbs under her suspenders.

“Whatcha reading, dude?”

Will doesn’t look up. “Superman.”

“You excited to dress up as Superman tomorrow?”

He bobs his head enthusiastically.

Around them, everyone is taking their seats as well. Erin gets Laura’s attention and waves her over. She walks Dana back to them and sits down. Jillian lifts Dana and plunks her on her own lap. Dana immediately moves over to Erin’s lap instead. She tends to cling to Erin the most when they’re out in public, but at home she rarely leaves Jillian’s side.

Once everyone is seated, the music changes and the wedding party enters. Of the two brides, Amber enters first, her mother and father on either side of her. She looks stunning, of course. Her dress isn’t quite what Erin would have expected from her, but it suits her perfectly. She’s radiating happiness and joy—she always does, but today especially. She joins the wedding party at the front.

Krystal comes in next, her mother on her arm—her father died when she was young. She’s as beautiful as always, her dress simple, classic. Erin takes a peek at Amber to catch the look on her face, and it’s perfect.

The ceremony is traditional, but short and sweet. It’s not long before they’re pronounced wives and they’re sealing their fate with a kiss. Jillian is the first out of her seat, hollering too loudly for such a small church. The rest of the room stands as well; Erin props Dana on her hip and cheers.

Amber gives Jillian a high five on her way back down the aisle, and mouths something to her that Erin doesn’t catch. She doesn’t ask Jillian about it—it was meant for her.

They make their way to the reception venue—an extravagantly decorated hall—and find their table, where Rebecca and Connie are waiting for them. Erin had almost forgotten that Amber invited them to the reception.

Connie stands immediately when she sees them. “Hey guys,” she says cheerfully. She takes Dana from Erin and gives her a one-armed hug, then hugs Laura and Jillian as well. She fist-bumps Will before he sits down. “You excited for trick-or-treatin’ tomorrow, buddy?”

“I’m gonna be Superman,” he says, lighting up.

Jillian leans on the back of Rebecca’s chair. “What time are you guys planning on coming by? I think we want to leave the house by six. You wanna swing by for dinner first?”

“Sure,” Connie says.

Jillian pokes Rebecca’s shoulder. “You’re still coming right? Don’t try to get outta it. I expect only the finest costume.”

“I will be there, but I am not dressing up,” Rebecca says, reaching for her glass of wine. “Don’t push it. And get off my chair.”

“Fiiine, Mom,” Jillian says. She straightens up and slings her suit jacket over her shoulder. “I’m gonna go say hi to some more people. See ya in a bit?”

“Give me your jacket before you go,” Erin says, reaching out her hand for it. “You’re crinkling it.”

“Thanks, babe.” Jillian hands it off and kisses her cheek, then strides off, cutting around tables as she crosses the room towards a group of Amber’s friends.

Erin hangs the jacket carefully off the back of Jillian’s chair and then sits down in the one beside it.

“Erin, we got a number two-thousand over here,” Connie says suddenly.

Jillian’s shorthand. _A thousand times worse than a number two._

Erin makes a face. “Really, Dana? After we just cleaned up the last one in the church bathroom?”

“Pretty sure that counted as sacrilege, what we did in there,” Laura quips.

Erin reaches for the diaper bag and starts to stand, but Connie holds out her hand.

“Don’t worry; I got it.”

“Really? Thank you,” Erin says in relief. She passes Connie the bag and watches the two of them take off towards the door.

A few minutes later, the DJ announces Amber and Krystal’s arrival, and they appear through the same door. They’re both glowing. They look so happy.

“How was the ceremony?” Rebecca asks as they watch guests go up to greet the newlyweds.

“Beautiful,” Erin says.

“Really nice,” Laura confirms. “They’re such a perfect couple.”

“Good,” Rebecca says. “I always did like Amber.”

Erin looks at her for a long moment. There’s something she’s wanted to mention for a while, but hasn’t had a good opportunity to. “You were the one who told Jillian that she needed to break up with her, right?”

Rebecca sips her wine and gazes across the room. Jillian bounds up to the happy couple and gives Amber a massive bear hug. She embraces Krystal as well and says something that has Amber throwing her head back in laughter that echoes through the hall.

“I reminded her that Amber was a nice girl who didn’t deserve to be hurt,” Rebecca says. “I did not tell her what to do. She made that decision herself.”

“Well,” Erin says after a pause, “regardless, I’m glad she did. Not because of me, but because Amber deserves all this.” She gestures around the room. “She deserves a perfect love story of her own, and a lifetime of happiness with someone she loves. She was never meant to end up with Jillian—because Krystal was out there waiting for her. You can just tell that they’re meant for each other.”

Rebecca nods once. “Indeed.”

Erin settles back in her chair with a smile, watching as Jillian gives Amber another tight hug. She knows that the two of them will never stop loving each other in their own way for as long as they both live—and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

_2004_

Holtzmann is wiping down the bar when a short but heavyset black woman takes a seat in front of her. She’s wearing Chucks, jeans, and a worn-out unzipped hoodie over a t-shirt so faded that Holtzmann can’t make out what it says. Holtzmann likes that—she can appreciate a woman who dresses for comfort, even when she’s out for the night.

She leans on the bar and turns on the Holtzmann Charm. “Hey there. What can I getcha?”

“Mojito, please,” the woman says, flashing a warm smile.

“You got it,” Holtzmann says confidently. She peels herself off the bar and grabs a glass. “You know, that’s my second-favourite drink.”

“Oh yeah?” The woman tilts her head. “What’s your first?”

“It’s an original. My signature drink. It’s named after me.” Holtzmann winks and starts to muddle the mint leaves in the bottom of the glass.

The woman props an elbow up on the bar. “What’s in it?”

Usually women ask what it’s called first, but Holtzmann likes a woman who can surprise her.

“Hey now, I can’t go giving away trade secrets.” Holtzmann looks her up and down. “Although, I could be persuaded to make an exception for you.”

The woman stares at her for a few moments, then starts to laugh.

“Oh my god,” she says. “This is your shtick, isn’t it?”

“My shtick?” Holtzmann falters but tries to not let it show.

“Oh my god, it is. Someone sits down, orders something, you flaunt the fact that you’ve got a drink named after you, you make them feel special…I bet you say every drink is your second-favourite.”

Holtzmann sets the drink down in front of her and grins. “I hate to break it to you, but I don’t have a shtick.” She raises an eyebrow. “Unless you _want_ me to have a shtick,” she says, voice thick with innuendo.

The woman, taking the first sip of her Mojito, chokes on it and erupts into loud, honest, unapologetic laughter. “Does this _work_ on people?” she asks once she’s gotten herself under control.

Holtzmann leans back down on the bar with a smirk. “You tell me.”

The woman laughs into her drink.

Holtzmann pretends to pout. “It’s only because I haven’t turned on the charm. I’m not even trying.”

“Oh.” The woman waves her hand and sets her drink down. “Please, don’t let me hold you back. Turn on the charm. This I gotta see.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Holtzmann says. She looks down for a moment, composes herself, and then seductively gazes up. “Come here often?” she says in a low voice.

There’s a pause.

“Oh, honey,” the women says through laughter, covering Holtzmann’s clasped hands with her own across the bar, “I love you. Don’t ever change. Actually—” She cranes her neck as if trying to see her from a different angle— “you should change your hair. _That_ just makes you look sad.”

Holtzmann slips her hands out from underneath hers and touches the messy bun at the base of her neck with a playful smile. “You come into my bar, you insult my hair…”

“I’m a hairdresser,” the woman says, equally as playful. “I know these things.”

“I’m not sad,” Holtzmann says defiantly. “I’ve got a beautiful woman sitting in front of me and between you and me, I _think_ I’m wearing her down. Life is good.”

The woman takes another sip of her drink, eyes sparkling. “Maybe you should get on with it and ask her on a date, then, and see what she says.”

There’s a loud snort from down the bar. “Holtzmann doesn’t date.”

The woman looks over at the girl who’s seated there. Holtzmann doesn’t.

“Shut up, Steph,” she says cheerfully, eyes still on the woman in front of her.

The woman twists on her stool to face Steph. “Oh yeah? What _does_ she do, then?”

“Now, that is the _real_ trade secret,” Holtzmann says. “You gotta find that out for yourself.”

“Whaddya think, Steph?” The woman turns back to Holtzmann and waits for the answer.

“I think she hasn’t slept with half the bar, myself included, to be needlessly cocky,” Steph says.

Holtzmann waggles her eyebrows.

“Well,” the woman says, “this has been illuminating. I’m gonna go back over to my friends—” She points to the corner of the bar, where an entire booth of women is watching them.

Holtz salutes them.

“—and I’ll talk to _you_ later.”

Holtz grins. “In—” She checks her watch— “twenty-eight minutes when I get off, perhaps?”

“We’ll see,” the woman says confidently. She stands and grabs her drink. “See you, Holtzmann. You too, Steph.”

“Wait,” Holtzmann says as the woman turns to leave, “I didn’t catch your name.”

The woman looks over her shoulder. “It’s Amber, hon. Better start practicin’ it.”

As she saunters off, Holtzmann whistles quietly. “You witnessed that, right?” she says.

“Lock that one down,” Steph says sarcastically. “I think you found the one woman in the world who can put you in your place.”

Holtzmann grabs her rag again, picking up where she left off, and grins to herself, knowing that she’s in for a night that she’ll never forget.

 

 


	6. vi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Feb 13th is Galentine's Day, and Feb 14th is Valentine's Day, I've hereby dubbed Feb 15th 'Just Gals Being Pals-entine's Day' (in addition to it being International Fanworks Day). This is my gift to all of you for both xo. Fair warning that this chapter is NSFW.
> 
> ...if you had told me back when I wrote my first-ever sex scene in [Chapter 7](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11000574/chapters/24920094) of _all the love I never gave (before I left you)_ that my ace ass would be writing this chapter a year and a half later, I would've laughed in your face. I'd highly recommend reading that chapter before this one - definitely not required, but I think it would greatly add to your reading of this :)

_2001_

It feels impossible that it’s been less than twenty-four hours since…what happened.

It’s all Erin can think about. All day at work she’s so hopelessly distracted that she takes down three orders wrong, drops a plate of food, and breaks a wine glass, all before 1:00pm. Her manager sends her home.

She sits on the couch in the empty apartment and tries to focus on anything but yesterday. She tries to force all thoughts of Jillian from her head.

The apartment door flies open and Erin jumps.

“Oh thank god, it’s you,” Jillian says as she kicks the door shut behind her. “When it was unlocked, I thought maybe someone broke in.”

Erin twists on the couch. “What would you have done if I _was_ a burglar?”

Jillian dumps her patchwork bag on the floor and kicks off her boots. “I dunno, I didn’t get that far. What are you doing home?”

“Scary Steve sent me home early.”

Jillian, in the middle of walking towards her, reverses and takes a step backwards. “Are you sick?”

“No, no,” Erin says quickly. “I just wasn’t in the right…headspace,” she mumbles.

Jillian perches on the arm of the couch. “His words or yours?”

“Yeah,” Erin says, distracted by the shape of Jillian’s lips.

Jillian doesn’t seem to notice. “Have you eaten yet?”

Erin clears her throat. “Um. No.”

“Cool. Grilled cheese?”

“Sure,” Erin forces out.

Jillian leaps from the couch and heads for the kitchen, whistling as she goes.

She’s acting so _normal_. More chipper, happier than usual, maybe, but normal.

Is she trying to pretend like yesterday didn’t happen? Does she regret it? Is she trying to make it seem like it’s not a big deal, like nothing has changed between them?

Or does it feel to her like nothing _has_ changed?

Things sure as hell have changed for Erin.

She gets up and follows Jillian into the kitchen and watches her get bread out of the freezer.

Jillian holds a frozen slice to either side of her face. “Feels good,” she says.

Erin makes a face. “That’s gross.”

“These’ll be mine,” Jillian amends. She sets the slices down on the cutting board and then grabs two fresh ones, which she makes a big show of setting aside. She closes the bread bag and returns it to the freezer.

“How was work?” Erin asks.

“Ehh.” Jillian deposits the butter and cheese on the counter and grabs a knife. “This guy wanted four shots of espresso added to his drink, but then complained that it tasted ‘too much like coffee.’” She holds the knife between her teeth as she opens the cheese, and rolls her eyes. “Jackass,” she says after she’s removed the knife.

Erin hums distractedly, watching as she slices cheese, starting intently at the way her fingers are curled around the knife.

She quickly backs away from the kitchen, away from Jillian, and retreats back to the couch to try and shake herself out of it.

What is _wrong_ with her?

Jillian joins her after a bit, balancing two plates.

“Okay, this one is the one that wasn’t on my face,” Jillian says, handing Erin one of the plates. She pauses and looks between them. “Wait…uhhhh…maybe…shit. I don’t know. I’ll go make you a new one.”

“It’s okay,” Erin says quickly. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Uh…okay,” Jillian says with surprise. She sits down cross-legged on the couch beside Erin.

They eat in silence. Cheese oozes out the side of Jillian’s sandwich and she catches the string between her fingers and directs it into her mouth.

Erin is staring again.

Jillian polishes off her sandwich twice as fast as Erin and sits there sucking the grease off each of her fingers in turn.

Erin makes a small noise that she covers up with a cough, and sets her plate on the coffee table.

“You having any more of that?” Jillian asks.

Erin eyes the last quarter of her sandwich. “No.”

Jillian snags it off the plate and eats it as she walks back to the kitchen with their dishes. Erin pulls her knees to her chest and listens to the sound of the kitchen sink running.

Jillian returns and flops back onto the couch. “What do you want to do now?”

Erin lets her feet slip off the couch and hit the floor again. She bites her lip, hard. “I don’t know,” she grits out.

Jillian is looking at her funny. “Are you sure you’re not sick?”

“Not sick.”

“You’re acting weird.”

“You’re _not_ ,” Erin blurts before she can help herself. “Are we just not going to talk about…”

Jillian adjusts so she’s sitting facing Erin. “About yesterday?”

Erin exhales loudly. “Something’s wrong with me.”

Jillian’s face immediately becomes panic-stricken. “What? Does something hurt? Did I do something wrong? Is—”

“No,” Erin says quickly. “No, not like that. Something’s wrong with my brain.”

Jillian frowns. “Huh?”

“I swear, I never used to think about—about anything and suddenly—all these _feelings_ and this energy is like, building up inside me, and it’s like all I can think about is—”

Something clicks on Jillian’s face, and a slow smile creeps onto her face. “Erin, my bestest and most dearest friend, are you trying to tell me that you’re _horny?_ ”

“No! _Jillian,_ ” Erin splutters. “God! That’s not—I’m not—that’s _gross_ , and—”

Jillian holds her hands up, still grinning. “Whoa. Erin. Don’t need to be so defensive. It’s a very natural feeling. I don’t blame you for having a bunch of pent up sexual frustration—you don’t get a lot of time to yourself when you’ve been sharing a bed with someone for three years. I know that better than anyone.”

“What are—what are you _talking_ about?” Erin’s face turns red.

“Not a lot of privacy to, you know—” Jillian clicks her tongue— “release some of it.”

“Oh my god.” Erin covers her face, then abruptly drops her hands. “Oh my god—when I’m not here, do you—”

“Not in our _bed_ ,” Jillian says. “That would be inconsiderate. The shower, on the other hand—”

“Jillian!”

“What? Come on, don’t tell me that you don’t—”

“Stop. Stop talking.”

Jillian’s expression turns more serious. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” Erin says, exhaling again. “This is just an embarrassing conversation.”

She shifts on the couch with discomfort. Crosses her leg. Fidgets.

Jillian stares at her crossed leg for a moment, then looks up. “Oh,” she says in a small, knowing voice. “I see.”

“What?” Erin asks quickly.

“Um. You know, I can…go for a walk, if…”

“What?” Erin repeats. “Why would—why?”

“So you can, uh…” She clicks her tongue again. “You know. Whatever. No judging.”

“ _Jillian._ Oh my _god_. Stop. Why would you even—”

“Hey, you’re the one telling me about all this ‘energy’ building up inside you. I’m just trying to be supportive. If you don’t want to deal with it yourself, then why don’t you go get a date, or whatever?” Jillian flicks her hand. “Now that you’re ‘prepared?’” Her voice has taken on a hard edge.

“I don’t think I’m ready,” Erin blurts before she can stop herself. “I think I need to practice more.”

Why the hell would she say that?

Jillian stares at her.

Erin shifts on the couch again.

An eternity passes.

Jillian continues to stare at her.

“What do you want from me, Erin?” Her voice shakes slightly.

Erin doesn’t know the answer to that question.

It’s not that she’s turned on and wants Jillian to relieve her just because she’s _here_.

She wants Jillian to relieve her because she’s turned on _by_ Jillian, she realizes with a start.

But she’s not attracted to Jillian. She’s not attracted to _women_. What is wrong with her?

Jillian, still waiting for an answer, licks her lips. A jolt goes through Erin and she realizes her hands are clenched, digging into the couch.

She exhales shakily.

“I want…” she begins. She screws up her face and groans.

Jillian’s face softens. “You okay?” She stretches her hand towards Erin, and it lands on the edge of her thigh.

Erin jumps like Jillian’s hand is a live wire, electric currents burning where it touches her skin. Her breath catches and she makes an involuntary noise in the back of her throat.

Jillian pulls back her hand immediately. “Um. Erin?”

Erin doesn’t meet her eyes.

“So, um…just to clarify,” Jillian says slowly, “when you said that something was wrong with you, and all you could think about was…”

“Yes, okay?” Erin bursts out loudly. “We have sex _one time—”_

“Three, if we’re being technical,” Jillian interjects wryly.

“—and suddenly I’m like this sex-crazed freak who can’t stop thinking about yesterday and replaying it in my mind and thinking about what it felt like when you touched me—”

Jillian raises her eyebrows.

“—and having all these _thoughts_ about you doing it _again,_ and being so distracted that I can’t even _work—_ ”

“Not in the right headspace,” Jillian jokes.

“—and it’s all so, _so_ inappropriate but I _can’t stop_ and I’m like, dying right now and I don’t know what to—”

Erin breaks off with a sharp inhale. Jillian’s hand is on her leg again.

“Erin,” she says slowly, a little nervously, “I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to be honest with me.”

Erin steels herself. “Yes?” she asks weakly.

“Do you want to have sex again?”

“Yes,” Erin says instantly.

“With me?” Jillian adds. “Just to be clear?”

“Yes,” Erin repeats.

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool,” Jillian says, sounding mildly flustered.

“If you want to,” Erin says quickly.

“Yeah, no, I do,” Jillian says, equally as fast. “I just…didn’t really see this coming. Are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure,” Erin says firmly. “I want this. I want…you.” She stumbles over the phrase. It sounds foreign coming out of her mouth. She sounds so dorky.

Jillian doesn’t seem to think so. She’s staring at her like she’s…

“You are like…seriously sexy right now,” she breathes with a certain level of amazement. “Like I—” She clears her throat loudly. “Shit, Erin. What are you doing to me?”

Before Erin can answer, Jillian runs her hand up Erin’s thigh, under the hem of her black dress from work.

Erin’s breath is uneven, ragged.

“Can—can you say it again?” Jillian asks, a hint of bashfulness to her voice.

Erin doesn’t stop to think about what she’s doing. “I want you,” she repeats, more confidently this time, slower, more deliberate, her voice taking on an unintentionally lower timber as she says it.

Jillian lets out a muted moan, and then her eyes immediately widen, her face flushing. If Erin didn’t know any better, she’d say she looks embarrassed.

Jillian clears her throat and shakes her head slightly, focussing again. She gently presses Erin’s shoulder so she leans back. “Is this okay?”

Erin nods, distracted again—this time by Jillian’s collarbone. “We could move to our room,” she mumbles, some part of her clouded brain noting that Abby would kill them if she knew they were doing this on their couch. She quickly shoves the thought from her brain.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I was under the impression you were in need of…immediate assistance,” Jillian cracks.

Erin laughs, a blush spreading on her face. She’s not in any position to argue. She shifts, trying to get comfortable against the pillow behind her.

Jillian moves too, trying to find a position where she’s not either falling off the couch or squishing Erin. She ends up with one knee in between Erin’s leg and the back of the couch; her other knee in between Erin’s legs; one hand up by Erin’s shoulder, holding herself up; and her other hand…

Her fingers creep timidly closer to where Erin needs them to be.

She doesn’t need timid. She needed timid yesterday, but today…

“I need you to touch me,” she says in the same low voice as earlier. She remembers Jillian’s moan and decides she wants to hear it again. “I _need_ you,” she adds, voice husky.

It comes out as more of a whimper this time, but the sound still resonates in Erin’s bones. Half a second later, Jillian’s fingers are exactly where Erin needs them to be. She gasps.

It takes her an embarrassingly short amount of time, especially compared to how long it took her yesterday. Or maybe Jillian just knows how to get her there faster now. Knows the right questions to ask.

“Almost there?” she asks in a low voice by Erin’s ear, breath tickling the skin there.

Erin’s response is a half-strangled noise that she’s quite certain she’s never made in her life.

She feels Jillian smile, lips grazing her neck, and her fingers twist in a deliberate, calculated move that sends Erin over the edge.

She claws at the couch as it hits her, her body shuddering, and her eyes fly open instead of staying shut like yesterday.

Above her, Jillian’s own chest is heaving, and her expression can only be described as one of adoration. Brief surprise flits across her face at the eye contact.

Something comes over Erin, and she reaches up to pull Jillian towards her by the back of her head, their lips crushing together as her body continues to twitch. At the unexpected movement, the arm holding Jillian up seems to give out, and she collapses on top of Erin, still kissing her, her other hand still diligently tucked in Erin’s underwear.

They keep kissing, intensity only building, their bodies moving together, and it’s so different from yesterday, so different from anything Erin’s ever done in her life, and she never thought she could feel like this, and her head is spinning, and Jillian moans, low and hungry, followed by a sudden sharp inhale, her legs clamping together over Erin’s thigh, hand gripping her shoulder, gasping for breath, fingers curling in Erin’s underwear reflexively.

“Did you just—”

Jillian nods with a whimper. “Oh my god,” she chokes out, “I’m so sorry—”

Sorry? _Sorry?_

Erin crushes their lips together again. The realization of what’s just happened—the sight of Jillian’s flushed face, the feeling of her straddling her thigh, the sound of her moan—is too much. Desire flashes through her, searing, and she comes for a second time when she’s barely come down from the first, and it startles her so much that she yelps and pulls away from Jillian, who looks just as stunned by the series of events.

“Jillian—fingers—too much—” Erin gasps out.

Jillian understands her disjointed request, withdrawing her hand from Erin’s underwear immediately, where she hadn’t been actively touching her like before, but rather sort of reflexively as they moved together.

Jillian tries to pull back from her, maybe thinking that she needs space altogether, but Erin’s arm is looped around her back and she uses it to pull her even closer, keep the weight of her fixed in place as her body continues to quiver for the second time.

“Jillian,” she whimpers, clutching her tightly.

Jillian, with the uncanny ability to know exactly what she needs, strokes the side of Erin’s face with her thumb and stretches to press a kiss to her forehead. The tenderness of the action causes a tear or two to spring into Erin’s eyes as her body twitches a final few times and she stills.

Jillian pushes hair from Erin’s face, looking just as blissed-out as Erin feels. “Wow,” she breathes, still trying to catch her own breath. “That was…super unexpected. On both accounts. How do you feel—wait, are you crying?” She pulls back like she thinks she did something wrong. “I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“I’m good,” Erin says quickly, chest heaving. “You’re good. I’m just a little overwhelmed. That was…a lot.”

Jillian’s guilty expression softens. “You’re incredible. You know that, right? You’re amazing.”

“If anyone’s amazing, it’s you,” Erin says. “That was… _wow_. Did you get better at that overnight?”

Jillian’s cheeks turn a shade pinker. “I just have a good memory, that’s all. I’m a quick learner.”

“Crap, Jillian,” Erin says with a slight shake of her head. “If you keep that up, you’re going to be lethal one day. You’re gonna be fighting women off left and right.”

Jillian begins to laugh. “Oh come on. As if.”

“I’m serious! With a talent like that, you could land any woman in the world.”

Jillian’s smile slips ever-so-slightly. She runs her tongue along her teeth. “Yeah,” she says a beat late, sounding a little hallow. “Maybe.”

 

_2003_

Holtzmann’s body writhes, hand tangled in the hair of the girl whose face is buried between her legs.

Her orgasm is potent, blinding, and she’s voicing her pleasure loudly and unapologetically. She loves it when she doesn’t have to worry about her partners’ roommates; neighbours; parents. There’s something even more cathartic about the release when she gets to be loud about it, so long as its deserving of the noise. She’s definitely not one to fake it.

“Oh my god,” she shouts. “ _Erin!”_

The realization of what’s she’s done is just as sudden and shattering as her climax itself, and she wishes desperately she could claw it back, claw back her body’s reaction altogether, put an immediate stop to her pleasure, but this girl knows what she’s doing, and she’s drawing it out as long as possible.

Holtzmann wraps her arm over her face, choking back a scream, all involuntary noises muffled by the crook of her elbow.

The name echoes in her ears, and she screws her eyes shut and forces down another scream of an entirely different nature.

The arm isn’t cutting it; she grabs a pillow and flattens it over her head, letting go of the girl’s hair so she can keep it in place with both arms.

She needs this to be over. Her partner is holding her hips down, continuing to stimulate her, and it’s _so good_ and Holtzmann can’t handle it, she can’t, she doesn’t deserve to feel this way. Not when her head is flooded with unwanted memories.

She waits until she’s come all the way down before tossing the pillow aside. She’s panting heavily, flushed with sweat.

It’s easily one of the best she’s ever had, and that’s the problem. That’s the reason her mind went harkening back. It’s always a comparison. A contest where there’s only ever been one winner.

And one consistent loser.

The woman lifts her head with a self-satisfied smirk, and Holtzmann thinks maybe she’s gotten away with it.

“So, you forget my name?” she asks. “Or is that your ex-girlfriend?”

“First option,” Holtzmann says instantly.

“Mhm.” She oh-so-subtly angles her head towards the door.

Holtzmann doesn’t need to be asked twice. She rolls from the bed and realizes her legs are still weak, shaking. She dresses anyway—pants, hoodie tugged quickly over her head. T-shirt, bra, underwear, socks, shoved into her hoodie pocket. Feet shoved into shoes. Wallet, keys, door.

“Thank you,” she says as she slips from the room.

Outside, she does scream, and thuds her boot into a lamppost over and over until she can feel pain radiating all the way up her leg, and it’s only then that she goes home.

 

_2020_

“Oh my god, I’m so horny.”

“Jillian, what the hell?! What if I’d answered on speaker?”

“…Did you answer on speaker?”

“No, but I’m still at _work,_ oh my god. This is so inappropriate.”

Her wife groans on the other end of the line. “You don’t understaaaaand. I think I’m dying.”

Erin rolls her eyes and tweaks the wedding photo on her desk. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“No, I ammmmm. I have _never_ been this horny in my _life.”_

“Oh my god,” Erin repeats for what feels like the billionth time. “Okay, you can probably blame the pregnancy for this. You’re pretty much right on target for an increase in your libido. I could’ve warned you about this. It’s normal.”

“Well _duh_ , of course it’s because of the pregnancy, but this level of horniness is off the charts. This is completely implausible.”

“Do you mean impossible?”

“Of course it’s not _impossible_. I’m living it right now.”

“Okay, well consider the sheer number of people on this planet who have ever been pregnant in the history of the world, and I’d say what you’re feeling is completely plausible. I’d even dare to say it’s highly probable.”

“Oh shut up. Arguing with you is just getting me going even more.”

Erin crosses her legs under her desk. “Don’t say that. You’re making me want to do something deeply inappropriate for this setting. Shame on you.”

“This isn’t my fault! What am I supposed to dooooooo? My wife is in another city and I’m locked up at home.”

“Take a shower,” Erin deadpans.

“Can’t you just talk to me until I get my rocks off?” Jillian whines. “Or better yet, get on FaceTime and let me see that sexy face of yours.”

“I am at _work,_ Jillian.”

Jillian boos. “You are easily the least sympathetic person in the universe. Unreal.”

“Honey, I’m going to be there in three days. Can you hold on until then?”

“Unlikely,” Jillian says forlornly. “I’ll just have to masturbate vigorously to the memory of you until such a day that we are reunited.”

“I’m hanging up the phone now.”

“Nooooooooooooooooooooo—okay. I just got an idea. Goodbyeloveyouuuu!”

“Wait—Jillian, if any part of this idea involves cutting out photos of my face and gluing them to sex toys, stop what you’re doing right now and do not proceed, do not pass Go, do not collect $200—”

“You are a fantastic woman and I love you dearly,” Jillian says. “Thank you for the idea.”

“Jillian wait—”

But her wife has hung up the phone.

Erin hides a smile behind her hand, and glances at the wedding photo again before opening up a text to Jillian.

_I’ll leave work early today. We can FaceTime when I get back to the hotel._

Her response is instantaneous: _We’ll be waiting_

And an attached photo.

_HOW DID YOU MAKE THAT SO FAST?_ Erin types.

“Dr. Gilbert?”

Erin lets the phone clatter to her desk. “Yes, Jasmine?”

“I have the notes for you from your meeting this morning.”

“Oh, perfect, thank you,” Erin says, holding out her hand.

Jasmine walks over and hands her the papers, her eyes darting down to Erin’s phone on the desk, the photo still open. Erin follows her gaze.

“My wife gets a little lonely at home,” she says.

Jasmine clears her throat and backs up towards the door.

“Jasmine?”

Jasmine flinches just as she’s turning, and looks back over her shoulder. “Yes, Dr. Gilbert?” she asks meekly.

“Can you clear my schedule for the rest of the afternoon?” Erin begins to gather papers on her desk. “I, uh, I’m gonna head out now.”

Jasmine looks at her for a moment, then ducks her head. “Will do. Have a, um…” She coughs. “Nice evening.”

Erin beams. “Thank you.”

Jasmine exits the room hurriedly.

Erin packs up her briefcase, grabs her coat, and picks up her phone from the desk, smiling to herself the whole while.

 

_2020_

Jillian shifts closer in the bed and kisses her wife’s neck.

Erin doesn’t look up from her book. “What are you doing?”

“Seducing you.”

“Jillian.”

“What?” Jillian continues to kiss her way up to Erin’s ear.

“The _baby_.”

“What baby?”

“ _Jillian_.”

“She’s sleeping,” Jillian whines, flopping back onto her own side of the bed. She gestures in the vague direction of the bassinet. “I don’t think she’ll mind.”

Erin shuts her book. “We are _not_ going to be those parents.”

“Oh come on. There’s nothing wrong with it. When else are we supposed to get some? Pretty soon the kids will be living here too and it’s going to be even harder. We are _not_ waiting until they’re all out of the house; are you _kidding_ me?”

Erin takes off her reading glasses and sets them on the end table with her book. “Or, you know, at least until she’s sleeping in her own room,” she says dryly.

Jillian rolls her eyes. “Oh please. That could be forever with all these new rules about co-dependent sleeping or whatever the hell it’s called.”

“Co-sleeping,” Erin corrects.

“Same thing.”

“Doesn’t matter; we’re not doing that,” Erin says. She gestures between them. “And we’re not doing _this_ either.”

“But I _miss_ you,” Jillian says with a pout. “I miss your _body_. When was the last time? Like, back when we were trying to induce labour? Oh my god, that was a _zillion years_ ago!”

“That was a month ago. _Literally_ a month ago. Why are you so dramatic?”

Jillian sweeps a hand across her forehead. “I prefer ‘theatrical.’”

Now Erin rolls her eyes. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but unless you invented time travel while you’ve been off work, it hasn’t been six weeks yet. Doctor’s orders.”

Jillian grimaces. “Oh, god, _no_. Nuh uh. That was _not_ part of the proposition. I thought that was obvious. Nobody is going anywhere near the Black Lagoon until the Creature is, like, in grad school.”

Erin laughs. “I sure hope that’s not the case.”

Jillian holds a finger up. “But you know what’s great? We don’t have to conform to heteropatriarchal bullcrap about two sets of genitals needing to be used at the same time.” Her other hand forms an O and she jabs her finger in and out to illustrate her point.

Erin grabs her hands to stop her. “Yeah, but I happen to enjoy myself more if I can return the favour.”

Jillian kisses Erin’s knuckles. “What if I told you that letting me do this for you would make my entire week?”

Erin raises an eyebrow. “Your entire week?”

“Maybe even my entire month.”

“You _literally_ gave birth to our daughter in the last month.”

“Well yeaaaaaah, she’s fine too, I guess,” Jillian says with a heavy sigh. She pulls her hands from Erin’s grasp and rolls over, trying to hide her disappointment. “It’s fine. If you don’t want to, I respect that. We can wait. I just miss touching you, that’s all.”

A pause. Erin’s hand lands warm on Jillian’s arm.

“Are you sure? That it would make you happy?”

Jillian rolls back to look at her incredulously. “Are you kidding? Hell yeah.”

The corner of Erin’s mouth hooks up. “I…I miss you touching me, too.”

“I can _definitely_ remedy that.”

Erin’s eyes dart to the corner of the room.

“Erin, she’s not even a month old,” Jillian says. “She’s not gonna know what’s happening. She doesn’t even know who we _are_ yet.”

“She knows who _you_ are,” Erin mumbles.

“Well, I can’t help it that I’m the Milk Machine,” Jillian says. “I provide a service. I’m memorable.”

“She was also inside of you very recently.”

“More recently than you? Is that what you’re jealous about?”

“Jesus _Christ_ , Jillian, retract that sentence _immediately_.”

“Yeah, I majorly regretted that one before it was even out of my mouth. Really, though, are you jealous that she might recognize _me_ having sex and not you? Y’know, you had an opportunity to be the one to do this.”

Erin grimaces.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Jillian teases. “You know I’d happily give you the stitched-up Danger Zone and the parental bond that goes with it if I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“We’re getting off track,” Erin says with a shake of her head.

“Right. I was seducing you.”

Erin bites her lip and looks over to the corner again.

Jillian reaches past her to turn off the lamp on the bedside table. She finds Erin’s lips in the dark and kisses her.

“Quick and quiet,” she murmurs. “That’s the name of the game. You in?”

Erin makes a small noise and hooks a hand around the back of Jillian’s head to kiss her back. She mumbles something back against Jillian’s lips.

Jillian pulls away. “Was that a yes?”

“Yes,” Erin says, a little desperately.

Jillian wastes no time. Her hands slide down to the hem of Erin’s nightgown, tugging it up past her hips. Her index fingers hook under the thick elastic waistband of her underwear, and she pauses, smiling into the dark.

“Don’t laugh,” Erin says. “I didn’t know this was going to happen tonight.”

Jillian stretches to kiss her. “Erin, my love, you know I love your Mom Underwear. Your Momderwear, to coin a phrase. And you know I especially love that you’ve been wearing them for far longer than you’ve been a mom. You are _unfairly_ sexy.”

Erin giggles softly. “Thank you,” she whispers.

Jillian kisses her cheek, then wiggles the Momderwear down. Erin helps, shimmying until they’re around her ankles, and then using her foot to kick them from the bed.

Meanwhile, Jillian is moving her way down Erin’s body, making a pit stop to kiss her favourite spot—a little cluster of freckles on Erin’s stomach, which she can’t see in the dark but instinctively knows the location of.

Then she moves the rest of the way down, and Erin sighs happily in response, shifting on the bed until she’s comfortable. Other than the occasional whispered instruction, she’s quiet. It doesn’t matter—Jillian knows her wife very well.

So when Erin reaches down to nudge her shoulder, she knows something is wrong.

She lifts her head. “What?”

Then she hears it before Erin can say anything—stirring from the bassinet.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jillian says under her breath.

“Can you go check on her?” Erin asks anxiously.

“She’s fine,” Jillian says.

“I can go do it,” Erin says.

“No, _no—_ let’s just…maybe if we’re dead quiet, she’ll go back to sleep,” Jillian says.

Erin doesn’t respond. They hold their breaths.

The fussing turns to whimpering. Then crying.

“God _damn_ it,” Jillian hisses.

“I’ll get up,” Erin says again.

“No,” Jillian says firmly. She sits up. “Stay right here. Don’t move.”

She scrambles from the bed. Erin turns the lamp on again.

Dana is a squirming, crying mess.

“What’s your problem?” Jillian says at full conversational volume, louder than they’ve been speaking the whole night.

“Jillian,” Erin chides.

“She’s just being dramatic,” Jillian says.

“Wonder where she gets that from,” Erin says under her breath.

Jillian gives her a look over her shoulder, then chokes a little when she sees her on the bed in all her half-naked glory. She makes a low noise of frustration as she turns back to the baby. “Seriously, kid? One day, you’re going to pay for this.”

“Jillian,” Erin repeats.

Jillian reaches into the bassinet.

“ _Hey_ ,” Erin hisses, “go wash your hands.”

Jillian retracts and gives her another look. “ _Really?_ ”

“ _Yes_ , really. Jesus. I better not see you kiss her, either.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Jillian grumbles.

She jogs hastily into the bathroom, quickly scrubs her hands, and returns. Erin has pulled her nightgown down.

Jillian scoops the baby up and sniffs her. “Doesn’t need a change,” she mutters to herself. “You better not be hungry.”

The baby continues to cry.

“For fuck’s sake.” With one hand, Jillian tugs her tank top up to her armpits and guides the baby to latch. She sighs with irritation.

“Are you okay?” Erin asks softly.

“Am _I_ okay?”

“Yeah. You seem a little agitated.”

Jillian gestures at her with her free hand. “Well _yeah_.”

“But you know it’s not her fault, right? She needs to eat.”

Jillian bites back another wildly inappropriate joke and sighs again. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I can take her to the nursery. Let you finish yourself off before the mood is irreversibly lost.”

Erin shakes her head. “No. Absolutely not. It’s okay—this was nice enough. I don’t need to finish.”

Jillian pouts. “That’s not fair.”

“Parenthood is about compromises,” Erin says as she gets off the bed and hunts down her underwear. “We knew what we were giving up for this.” She comes up beside Jillian and gazes down at the baby in adoration. “I think it’s a _very_ fair trade-off. I mean, _look_ at her.”

Jillian looks at her, but all she feels is resentment. It’s a far cry from the reverence in Erin’s voice.

Erin kisses the baby’s head, then Jillian’s. “I’m going to go get some water.”

“Kay,” Jillian mumbles distractedly.

After a few minutes, the baby appears to be done. Jillian burps her and settles her back in the bassinet, watching as her eyes drift shut again.

She stares at her for a few moments, then sighs and turns away.

Erin still isn’t back. She wanders out into the hallway to see what’s taking her so long, then stops dead.

Erin is leaning seductively against the wall, the baby monitor from downstairs in her hands. She raises her eyebrows with a half-smile.

Jillian’s mouth falls open with glee, picking up exactly what Erin is laying down, and all but runs back into their room to turn the other monitor on. She doesn’t give the baby a second glance as she skips back to the hallway.

Erin, one finger to her lips, motions for Jillian to follow her down to the end of the hall. Jillian almost raises her eyebrows herself—the kids’ rooms are down there—but then Erin reaches overhead and pulls the stairs for the attic down.

They don’t speak until they’re up there, when Erin turns on Jillian.

“You seemed really upset,” she says, “so I thought maaaaybe we could pick up where we left off. Uninterrupted.”

A grin envelopes Jillian’s face. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Erin replies with a smile of her own.

When they come back down several minutes later, red-cheeked and breathing heavy, Erin starts to giggle.

“Is this our life now? Quick-and-dirty attic sex?”

Jillian grins. “Welcome to parenthood.”

 

_2006_

Erin can’t remember his name.

That’s probably her first warning sign that what she’s doing is a mistake, something she’ll deeply regret later.

She met him in one of her classes. He took her out for coffee one day, then dinner, and now here they are in her apartment in Boston, the one that she’s been living in for a year that still doesn’t feel like home.

Here she is, and here he is, and she can’t remember his name.

He’s kissing her, his stubble scratching at her skin, and he’s fumbling with his belt buckle with one hand.

She doesn’t even like him. He’s just a guy. She doesn’t feel anything when she looks at him. Kissing him is like drinking from a bowl of tepid water. It does literally nothing to satisfy her. She couldn’t be less turned on if she tried.

But he’s here, and she invited him, and it’s time. She’s twenty-six. It’s time to rip the band-aid off.

He’s clearly struggling to undo his belt without looking, so he pulls away from her for a moment to do it. Erin takes the chance to discretely wipe her mouth with the back of her hand and stare up at the ceiling.

When she looks back, he’s tugging his pants and boxers down over his hips, and then—

She bursts out laughing.

She immediately claps her hand over her mouth.

He recoils. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” she says, and forces back the laughter. Then she happens to glance down and suddenly she’s laughing again.

“What the fuck?” he says.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she says, trying and failing to stifle her laughter. She tries to find somewhere else to look. Anywhere. “I’m so sorry,” she says through another giggle.

“What’s wrong with you?” he snaps, sounding defensive and offended all at once.

“I just—oh my god, I’m sorry,” she gets out, tears now gathering in her eyes from how hard she’s laughing. “It’s not funny.”

“Damn right it’s not,” he says angrily. “What’s your problem?”

“It’s just—so—it’s—” she wheezes. “It’s not—you— I just—haven’t—” She wipes her eyes and tries to get control of herself. Her eyes go to his face, and his angry expression is enough to sober her a bit. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

“What, are you a virgin?” he says, disgusted-sounding.

Erin isn’t quite sure how to answer that question. She’s not sure what answer is going to make her look better in this situation. She’s not sure if there _is_ an answer that’ll make her look better. She’s pretty certain that there’s no way to bounce back from laughing at a guy’s junk.

Plus, she’s not even sure if she knows the answer. A part of her wants what she did with _her_ to not count.

It doesn’t matter either way.

He’s already pulling his pants back up, not even bothering to do up his belt again, just trying to get away from her as fast as he can.

“I’m sorry,” she says one last time.

He gives her the dirtiest look imaginable and practically runs from the room.

She waits until she hears the apartment door slam, and then she flops back against her pillows with a long sigh.

What _is_ wrong with her?

There is something seriously, deeply wrong with her.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She was supposed to get over herself and just _do_ it, already. Even if she wasn’t attracted to him. Even if she couldn’t remember his name.

Just to prove to herself that she could.

She rolls over onto her side and curls into a loose fetal position, hugging a pillow to her chest and exhaling with frustration.

What the hell is she supposed to do when she’s only ever been with one person, and that person haunts her despite her best efforts to remove all traces from her memory?

On cue, her head floods with unwanted memories. Sensations, visuals, _noises_.

She groans and rolls onto her back again, releasing the pillow and closing her eyes.

One hand drifts almost involuntarily down her bare stomach.

She tries to picture whats-his-name’s face, but struggles to recall it. He’s hazy, a little blurry.

Her hand drifts lower. She touches herself experimentally.

He’s kissing her. He’s unbuckling his pants.

Her hand recoils like a reflex, eyes flying open, and she groans in frustration again. Hopeless.

She closes her eyes. Tries to focus.

“I want you,” she says out loud. It comes out forced, like a badly-delivered line in a cheap porno.

_Say it again_.

This time, Erin startles all the way upright, yelping a little. She looks around her room, heart racing like she’s seen—or heard—a ghost.

She eases back down against her pillow, unwilling to close her eyes again for fear it’ll happen again, _her_ voice still echoing in her head.

Except she still feels her there. She feels her everywhere.

Her breathing has become shallow. Her hand twitches. She tucks it behind her back as if to punish it.

A few minutes pass.

She can’t take it any longer.

She releases her hand and lets it slide down her torso again. Her eyelids slip shut.

She tries to fight against the images in her head. She tries. She fails.

She wishes she could say it was the first time. It’s not.

But this time—this time it’s not the face that she knew five years ago, the one in all her memories.

No, it’s the one that she’s been seeing every Thursday in quantum theory class. The one she has no business thinking of. She’s not her Jillian any more.

She covers her mouth to keep from calling out her name as she finishes.

And then she rolls onto her side again and sobs until she falls asleep.

 

_2019_

“Hi.”

Erin smiles, ethereal. “Hi.”

Jillian wants to say something, but doesn’t know what. She’s overcome.

“So, I know that this isn’t…like, a big moment, officially speaking,” Erin says. “It’s not going to be our first time as wives, because we’ve been married for a year-and-a-half already, but…it’s still our wedding night.”

Jillian bites her lip and nods.

“It still feels special,” Erin whispers.

Jillian nods again and leans down to slowly kiss Erin.

“How do you feel?” she says softly.

“Stupendous,” Erin breathes.

Jillian grins wide. “God, I love you.”

There’s a pause, and then Erin props herself up on her elbows. “Jillian?”

Jillian sits back on her heels. “Yeah?”

“I, um…I never thanked you.”

Jillian frowns. “For…marrying you?”

Erin laughs lightly. “That too. No, for…for our first time. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.”

“Ooh.” The corner of Jillian’s mouth ticks up. “You definitely thanked me. You were very polite.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Erin bites her own lip. “Looking back, I’m so eternally grateful that you were my first time. That our first time with each other was _both_ of our first times.” She pauses. “Although, there’s still a part of me that’s convinced you were lying about not having done that before, because _wow_.”

Jillian chuckles. “I promise you, I hadn’t.” Her smile softens. “But I agree. That’s still easily one of the best days of my life. I’ll never forget it.”

“Neither will I,” Erin says. “Every moment of it was so perfect. It meant more to me than you know—more than I would’ve ever admitted at the time. I was so scared. Scared of sex, scared of not knowing what I was doing, scared of what it would be like—and then with you I wasn’t scared at all. It felt so right. I was so comfortable with you. We could laugh and have fun and make mistakes and learn and it all felt so _safe._ And you were so nice, and so gentle, and you made sure I was okay, and you made me feel beautiful.”

“You are beautiful.” Jillian looks her over, the slight flush to her skin, the way her perfect wedding hair is slightly mussed, the blue of her eyes. “You are the most beautiful woman in the entire universe. You always have been.”

“Thank you,” Erin gets out, barely above a whisper. “And _thank you_ for that day. You loved me so much, and it showed.”

Jillian feels her face warm a little. “You loved me, too.”

Erin’s eyes are shining a little. “Yeah,” she says simply. “I did.”

Jillian bends to kiss her again. Erin cradles the side of her face.

“I love you,” Erin says against her lips.

“I love you, too,” Jillian whispers. She pulls back slightly, corner of her mouth tugging up again. “Do you want to proceed?”

Erin laughs, and Jillian revels in the beautiful sound. She could listen to Erin laugh for the rest of her life. She _will_ listen to Erin laugh for the rest of her life.

“Yes, Jillian, I really do,” Erin says.

Jillian grins. “Alrighty then. Initiating launch sequence. 5—4—” She pauses to see if Erin will stop her. “3—2—”

“1,” Erin finishes, and then pulls Jillian in towards her once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 100% the fault of the person who prompted me back in June to write "a piece in which Erin admits her physical attraction to Holtz in their college years." I accidentally stumbled across that prompt on my blog and started thinking about that and then somehow one idea spiraled into six and suddenly I had this chapter. So thank you, whoever you are! (See - giving me prompts isn't always a hopeless endeavor!)
> 
> Also, endless thanks to [Hayli](http://ablogofones-own.tumblr.com/) for being an amazing beta for this chapter! I probably wouldn't have posted it without your help, so thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> [Submit prompts](http://jillbert.tumblr.com)   
>  [Read their story from beginning to (almost) end](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11000574/chapters/24504501)


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